


Sunday to Sunday, and then After That

by hippohead



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bartender!Blaine, London AU, M/M, Mike is English which i think is fun, POV Alternating, Vogue!Kurt, all kurt/adam-ness is past tense and not overwhelmingly important dw i won't hurt u, and blainetina besties, dips its toes in slow burn territory, for a bit, well London AU at the start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippohead/pseuds/hippohead
Summary: Blaine is living & working at a pub in London; Kurt is in London on a week-long trip that his ex-boyfriend had booked for the two of them before they broke up. It's hard to see the magic of London when you're heartbroken, until it's not anymore because there's a devastatingly handsome and charming bartender trying to show it to you. Oh, and then after that.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 73
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> important thing i want to point out: this was the first klaine fic i ever wrote and i originally posted it to my other ao3 account, but i've been wanting to move it over to this one for a while, to keep my klaine fic all in one place. so if u happen to stumble upon this and have seen it elsewhere, that is why! i'll be posting a chapter every Saturday, which gives me 14 weeks to hurry up and finish the last four chapters that are half written. this blaine and kurt are very special to me and i hope u enjoy it all!

Sunday

The pub was its usual slow, sleepy self for this time of day.

It was a Sunday, early-evening, and Blaine's shift had started just as they were in a lull. The midday, chatty drinkers had already wandered home for dinner, but the normal crowd that showed up late to commiserate the end of the weekend had yet to make an appearance. Blaine smiled at a very tired-looking Mike.

"Hey. How's it been today?" He picked up a tea towel and swung it over his shoulder, unable to resist the temptation of the stereotype. The only part of this job he actually enjoyed was the way it made him feel like Sam Malone.

"Not too bad. Samantha was in earlier with her new man."

Blaine groaned, the sound in his throat full of sympathy. This was common: he, Mike and their other coworker, Tina, would often swap stories about their regulars and as much as Blaine was weary of gossip, it was nice to have people to share the stories with. And some of the stories were _wild_. 

"Nightmare." Blaine offered, knowing from experience that Samantha, who lived locally and made regular appearances throughout the week, could be quite tricky to handle even on her best days. 

Mike chuckled, "Indeed. Right, well. I'll leave you to it." 

Mike's English accent was thick, but after spending numerous months in his presence, Blaine was used to it. Not to mention, he was surrounded by just about every different type of British accent on a daily basis - every infliction, every pitch, every part of the country. He watched Mike push out into the London street and settled into his routine; absentmindedly polishing the glasses, serving the odd drink, leaning against the inside of the bar while he waited for something interesting to happen.

* * *

Kurt cursed under his breath. 

He was dragging his suitcase behind him which was heavy and had become inconvenient the second he'd stepped foot on the tube. He'd gotten off the Piccadilly line (just like the man at Heathrow had told him to) and had tried to change onto the District, but there were people hurrying in every direction and he'd felt like he couldn't think straight. He'd made his way up and out and gasped into the fresh air. It hurt his ego a little considering how much he prided himself on being about to navigate the subway back home with ease. But he pressed on, changing tactics to try and find a bus that would take him to Chiswick instead. 

This whole trip was cursed.

He had been standing on the wrong side of the road. Of course he had been; they _drive_ on the other side of the road here. And so there he was - dragging his case behind him in anger, cursing as the light wind managed to unwind the scarf around his neck, unable to stop in the middle of the road to fix it. There were no seats on the bus when it finally arrived and he felt like a nuisance with his luggage, hugging the wall as much as he could. 

He almost cried with relief when he got to the hotel. 

He did his best to hide his obvious disdain at the world as he was checking in, reminding himself that it was not this mousy woman at the front desk's fault that he was in a miserable mood. She checked him in without a hitch, thank god, and the room was nice. He sighed at the bottle of champagne sitting in a small, silver ice bucket with two glasses resting next to it. There was a card with the hotel's logo on it, folded in half. He picked it up and flipped it open.

_Happy birthday, Kurt_  
_Can't wait to show you London._  
_Love, Adam_

It wasn't written in Adam's usual scribbles, so he must have emailed the hotel staff to set it all up. He also must have forgotten to cancel it.

Kurt stood there for a moment longer, letting the note and the notion of it settle into his bones. Two months ago, Adam had booked this trip for the two of them and gone to the lengths of organising something like this for him. One month ago, he'd left him alone and panicking in Central Park, without a glance back. 

He did email the flights and accommodation information to Kurt's work address three days later, which Kurt had thought was big of him considering he could have kept the trip for himself and used it to visit his family. There had been no message attached to the email, but Kurt had got the gist of it: _It's yours, if you want it._ He didn't want it. And yet here he was; in the hotel room that was supposed to be theirs, three days out from spending his birthday alone, in London, where he knew no one. 

He cursed again, louder this time than out on the street, and scrunched the note into his fist. He threw it on the ground angrily and then picked it up and placed it in the bin. He didn't need to add to housekeeping's load. And then, despite his overwhelming desire for a shower and sleep, he pulled his jacket back on. He was desperate for some food that didn't come on a tray.

* * *

Blaine was fiddling around with the music when he heard the door swing open. He could count on one hand how many customers there currently were in the pub and no one had needed anything for at least twenty minutes now, so he was glad for something to do. 

He pressed shuffle on the playlist he'd been searching for and then lifted his head, ready to greet whoever it was that had just come in. The man had come to a stop by the side of the bar. He was tall, slim but toned, and his hair was styled, coiffed, and it looked soft. He looked sad.

"Hi, how are you?" Blaine smiled.

The man turned to him and met his eyes, and then sort of laugh-scoffed. It didn't sound rude, per se, but Blaine was still a little taken aback. That must have read on his face, because suddenly the other man was putting a hand up in apology. 

"Oh, sorry. It's just... a fellow American." He gestured towards Blaine, and then continued in a more teasing tone, "You're sort of ruining the whole quaint, English pub experience I had built up in my mind."

Ah.

"I can do an accent?" He offered helpfully.

A small smile stretched onto the man's face and it softened everything - his jawline, his eyes, the way he said his next words, "Well, as much as I would love to hear that; American is fine."

"What can I get for you?"

"Any sort of whiskey, neat." He said, and then before Blaine could ask, "Double."

Blaine grabbed a whiskey glass from the shelf and measured out a double, biting his tongue to stop himself from commenting on how much the choice of drink didn't seem to match the man in front of him. A man who was now perching on a stool on the other side of the bar and whose clothes and demeanor and overall presence seemed to deserve better than mid-range, room-temperature whiskey. Expensive gin with tonic - the nice stuff - and a slice of lime, or the best red wine on the shelf, perhaps. 

The sadness had found its way back into the man's eyes by the time Blaine placed the drink in front of him, but he still tried not to say anything. He preferred to let the customers initiate a conversation, if they were going to have one, only slipping from pleasantries to friendly chatter if they gave him the green light to. 

"Rough day?" he said despite himself, when the man took a large sip from the golden swirling glass.

"Rough month." He sighed, and then looked up at Blaine, "Oh, sorry. How much?"

"On the house." Blaine said, trying to ignore the tug of the reason why it was. He wasn't supposed to give out free drinks, especially not to strangers, but the landlord was sort of a dick and this man was very, very pretty. 

"Hm." He hummed, "Maybe London isn't so bad."

"Oh, it definitely isn't." Blaine couldn't help the sparkle he was sure was swimming in his eyes; London had absolutely stolen his heart. Not forever, but for now. "It's a wonderful city."

"Have you been here long?" the man asked.

Blaine's eyes darted to the front door as a couple walked through. He didn't recognise them - they weren't regulars - so he couldn't really keep them waiting. "Sorry, one second." He moved along the bar and smiled at the couple, chatting easily with them about the weather - they were all glad that it had been getting warmer - and poured them a glass of wine each. He moved back to where the register was (and the man) and put the cash inside. Then he cleared his throat and turned around, glad for a reason to continue their conversation, "Ten months."

"Oh, wow." The man breathed. His glass was almost empty. "You must know the city pretty well, then."

"A bit." Blaine nodded, and after a moment, "Can I ask your name?"

He meant for his voice to sound casual, conversational, but even he could hear the wave in it. 

"Kurt."

Blaine studied him. He seemed like a Kurt. He liked when people suited their names, like how he felt he suited his. "Kurt." He said, out loud, just to hear how it sounded falling through his teeth. "Nice to meet you."

"You too..." Kurt waited, and upon no help from Blaine, he said, "I believe this is the moment when you tell me yours."

Oh. Shit. "Blaine."

"Blaine." He repeated back to him. As he smiled at Blaine, he bit onto his bottom lip, and then as if to stop himself from doing just that, he finished off the remaining whiskey in his glass. 

Blaine gave the pub a quick sweep with his eyes, but everyone still seemed well settled and not in need of another round. "So, Kurt, what brings you to London?"

Kurt, across from him, slumped onto the bar a bit further and groaned, "I think I'll need another drink before I explain that."

Blaine pulled the Jameson off the shelf and poured a double on sight into the glass. The movement was so smooth even he was surprised by it, and he shook his head a little at Kurt's raised eyebrow when he made no attempt to charge him for it. He made a mental note to pay off the tab himself if he was going to keep giving this man free drinks. 

"Americans get special treatment," he said, when Kurt draped a confused expression over him. 

"I see." He pursed his lips and took a sip, but Blaine had hope that he was enjoying the attention. 

"So?"

Kurt sighed, "My boyfriend- well, my _ex_ -boyfriend bought this trip for us. He's from here originally, so I was going to do the whole meet-the-parents thing. And he was going to show me around London; ride on red double-decker buses, see every West End show, meet the Queen."

"Meeting the Queen is a very tall order," Blaine pointed out, but his tone was kind.

"A boy can dream," Kurt replied, but the sadness in his voice didn't seem to have much to do with the fact that you couldn't just bump into the Queen of England on Oxford Street. 

"Can't you do all of that stuff, anyway? Without him?"

Kurt shuddered at that and Blaine immediately regretted saying anything. He hurried to apologise but Kurt shook his head, "No, it's okay. You're right. I'm going to try to." His lips curved upwards, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Any chance you guys sell food here?"

Blaine passed him the menu. It was pretty basic, all the usual things you'd expect from a small pub like this, and when Kurt put in an order for a steak and ale pie, he reluctantly let him pay. It would be pushing it to give him a free meal as well. He passed the order on to the kitchen, which was just a guy called Matt who sat on his phone during every shift, cooking slowly whenever the occasional order came through.

The place started to pick up a bit after that and Blaine was too distracted with other customers and collecting empty glasses to keep talking to Kurt. Still, his eyes kept wandering back over to him as he drank his second whiskey much slower, and ate his meal once it eventually came out. When Blaine finally had a moment where he wasn't needed by anyone, he took the chance to head back over to Kurt. He cleared the empty plate and cutlery out of his way and pointed at the now empty glass, "Another?"

"I actually might head back to my hotel. I don't usually drink hard liquor; I think it's gone to my head," he laughed lightly.

"Oh, sure." Blaine smiled, annoyed at himself for feeling disappointed that he was leaving.

Kurt stood up and wound his scarf around his neck, "Are you sure I can't pay for the-"

Blaine waved his hand dismissively, "Absolutely. It's the least I could do."

"Well, then, here..." He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and tried to slip Blaine a note.

Blaine put his hands out in front of him, shaking his head, "Oh, no, you don't have to tip here if you don't want to."

"I want to," he replied, simply.

Blaine resigned, reaching out to take the note from him with a smile on his face that could only (embarrassingly) be described as bashful, and noticed the flash that sparked when their fingers brushed together for the briefest of moments. Kurt smiled at him as if he wanted to say something, but he settled on a thank you and a good night before pushing back out into the cool London air. 

Blaine watched him walk away. He tried to quiet the voice inside his head that was telling him to make a big gesture; leave the bar and run after him, offer to show him the city, be everything his ex-boyfriend obviously wasn't being. He hummed to himself, out loud and laughing, knowing how crazy that sounded. It seemed like this poor guy had _just_ had his heart broken by the very person whose fault it was that he was in London in the first place - that didn't exactly bode well for romance.

He would let the man go.

* * *

Kurt made it back to his hotel room and breathed deeply. He saw the bottle and champagne flutes on the table and... nothing. He felt nothing; nothing good, nothing bad about it. It was just a bottle of bubbles, and yes, technically, they were from Adam, but not on purpose. Whatever. He didn't care.

As he washed the flight and the day off his body and then moisturised his face, he let his mind sit for a moment on whether or not Blaine the Bartender had been flirting with him. He _was_ awfully charming, and smiled a lot, and he did give him two free drinks. But maybe he really meant it when he said he gave Americans special treatment, their shared place of birth a kinship. Maybe. Perhaps.

He was lying in bed, later, moonlight slicing through a gap in the curtains, when suddenly the picture of Blaine in the dark polo shirt he'd been wearing, the sleeves a little tight and showing off his biceps wonderfully, popped into his head. He blushed a little, slightly amused at the light feeling in his stomach. He decided it was nice to be reminded that he could still do this, _feel_ things, that one day he would be over Adam for good.

A harmless crush on a cute bartender he'd never see again was a safe place to start.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday

Kurt woke up at a pretty decent time the next morning, quietly chuffed that he seemed to have nipped any jetlag in the bud. He took his time browsing through the outfit options he'd hung in the closet yesterday. If he was going to have to spend the day alone in London, he was going to look bloody good doing it.

He picked out a pair of black jeans, tight, with silver studs down one side, and a beige turtleneck that would keep him warm if the temperature dropped. He matched it with the perfect shoes and headed downstairs. As he wandered along the street, he took a second to take in his surroundings. He'd been too busy being annoyed at everything yesterday to really look and it had been dark once he'd left the pub. Chiswick was nice. There were cafes littered everywhere and a man was selling all sorts of flowers on the pavement. It was a bit warmer than yesterday and all of a sudden, as if the weather decided it, he felt like he was going to have a good day. 

His good mood lasted for a while - he caught the tube all the way to the Tower Bridge and without a large suitcase lugging him down, he navigated it without a hitch. He walked across the bridge, marveling at the size of it and the view from either side. He couldn't be bothered with the lines at the Tower of London, so he just took a few photos from the outside and then followed the river around. When he got to London Bridge, he crossed back over to the other side of the river, wondering why everyone wrote songs about this one when it seemed to be the most underwhelming. He took a guided tour through Shakespeare's Globe, in awe of the history and noticing the thrill that learning about theatre always gave him. 

He stopped for some lunch before continuing his journey along the Thames. Finally, _finally_ , he arrived where he had been heading all along - Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament, the Palace of Westminster, the London Eye. He stood on Westminster Bridge, twirling slowly, taking it all in, unaware of how much of a tourist he looked like or just not caring at all. From there, he wandered down to Trafalgar Square, passing Downing Street on his way, and after sitting in the square for a while, people-watching, he realised the deep ache in his calves and decided he should probably call it a day. He had plenty of time to see the rest of London.

The ride back to the hotel was easy - it was still early afternoon so the rush of people leaving work hadn't hit yet, and Kurt noticed that overall, it really wasn't that different from riding the subway back home. Except for the carpeted seats.

It was hours later when he woke up to a loud noise out on the street. He was atop his bed, still in his clothes from the day (which he hated sleeping in, but the pull of a nap had clearly been too strong. Maybe he hadn't gotten on top of the jetlag as much as he thought he had). His head still heavy, and groggy, he glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table and connected the emptiness in his stomach to the time.

After freshening up, he was back out on the street and trying his best to not let his body angle towards the place he had stumbled upon last night. He shouldn't go back there. There were plenty of other places to get a meal.

And yet.

It was dark inside the pub, as if someone had forgotten to turn a couple of extra lights on when the sun had started to set, but it fit the sleepy, snug atmosphere that hung in the air. There were even less people here than last night. 

No one was behind the bar so he stood politely, letting his eyes sweep across the room in search of a bartender, any bartender. _Him_. He cleared his throat, more to shake himself out of that train of thought - the one where he acknowledged that he'd come here tonight just to see Blaine - than to get anyone's attention, but a small girl with long, black hair and blue streaks all through it came running from the kitchen at the sound.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, looking flustered, before letting her eyes fall on Kurt, a hopeful smile plastered on her face. She must have to deal with some real assholes around here, he figured, at the apprehension laced in her eyes.

Kurt waved his hand, showing that he didn't mind, "Oh, don't worry. I'd only just got here."

She asked him what he wanted and he tried to bury the feeling inside of him - the feeling that he was disappointed that this woman was serving him, instead of _him_. She passed him the beer, the _ale_ , that he'd ordered per her recommendation when he'd asked for 'something English'. He handed her a note and raised the drink to his lips, skeptical. 

"Isn't beer usually cold?" he asked, motioning for her to keep the change. 

The woman scrunched her nose and laughed, "I honestly have no idea. I don't really drink beer."

"Have you led me astray?" he gasped, exaggerating his heartbreak over the matter.

She groaned, playing along, and spoke, "I'm so sorry - I just figured, what's more British than a bunch of old, white men grumbling whilst drinking room temperature beer?"

"I see," he nodded, thoughtfully, before offering, "So really, you're just trying to give me the authentic experience?"

"Exactly," she laughed. "So, you're from the States too?"

Kurt nodded, "Do you have to be American to work here?" His tone was light, but he was also genuinely wondering - he was yet to be served by anyone that wasn't from home in this pub. 

"Oh, you must have met Blainey, then?"

He bristled at the way she said _Blainey_ , aware of the fact that they must be close if she gets to say his name like that and that the feeling in his throat, bubbling, was jealousy. This was starting to get ridiculous. "I did, yeah," he breathed, trying to sound airy and not bothered in the slightest at the mention of him. He took another sip of the beer, hating the taste it left in his mouth. 

"It was just a coincidence that we both got hired here. Mike - our other coworker - he's from here. He's working during the day tomorrow, and he actually grew up in West London, so if you really do want the true experience..." She trailed off when a customer started gesturing to her for another round. She sent Kurt apologetic eyes and made her way over to him.

He took his almost-warm beer over to a table in the corner and sank down into a comfy armchair. His stomach reminded him that he should probably order some food soon, and he was just about to pinch the menu from the empty table next to him when a door opened at the back of the bar.

The woman who had served him had finished with the man that had called her away and was now staring out towards the front door, seemingly off in a different world while she waited for someone to need her, and she got a fright when Blaine leaned over and kissed her cheek. He had a plate full of food, one in each hand, and he was careful not to spill anything as he shuffled to the customer side of the bar. Kurt curled into himself even more, hoping to hide, suddenly overcome with a need for Blaine to not see him, and watched. He watched as they had dinner together, the woman always keeping an eye on the bar as she ate, Blaine's eyes scanning every now and then but never seeming to settle on anything in particular. At one point, Blaine reached out his hand and placed it on top of the woman's while they talked in quiet voices. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles, back and forth, soothing. Kurt could just make out Blaine's eyes as he looked at the woman and listened to her; the tone inside of them, the tenderness.

Oh.

He pushed up, quietly, and snuck out the front door as quickly as he could. He spotted a takeaway shop nearby and rushed into it, ordering the first thing he saw on the menu and chewing on his lip while he waited for them to call out his number. As he turned the shock - or perhaps it was just surprise - of realising that Blaine and that woman were probably together, as in _together_ -together, he understood why it had caught him off-guard. He had just assumed Blaine was gay.

"Hm," he hummed, out loud but under his breath enough that no one else in the shop turned towards him. And then he realised that he hadn't thought about Adam all day.

This had to be Adam's fault - the fact that his feelings towards a man he'd met once, fleetingly, were already becoming, like, a _thing_. Adam had broken his heart so severely that a beautiful man merely _talking_ to him was enough to send him spiraling. His number was called out.

He ate his kebab in his hotel room.

* * *

It wasn't uncommon for Blaine and Tina to cook for each other and to keep the other company while whoever was on duty ate behind the bar. He'd be lying if he said his intention behind cooking tonight was just for the meal, and for Tina, though. He wanted to know if _he_ would come back. 

Tina was particularly chatty tonight and Blaine was enjoying listening to her stories from her date with Mike earlier, while Blaine had been covering the day shift for him. Even though Tina and Blaine had only known each other since he'd arrived in London, theirs had become one of the deepest friendships in his life. And he was so happy for her and her budding romance with their wonderfully handsome coworker that he was perfectly willing to swap shifts around so they could hang out.

His eyes kept darting around the room despite himself, but Tina had forgotten to turn some of the lights on and most of the place was dark and dusty. After his third or fourth glance, he refocused on Tina. She had started telling him about the gross things one of their regular customers had said to her a few hours ago. He reached his hand out, covering hers, knowing how awful and inappropriate the men could be towards Tina. She had it much worse than he or Mike did. His other hand, the one in his lap, was clutched into a fist.

"Next time he comes in, please come and get me. I'm just upstairs."

Tina looked withdrawn, "You'd just finished your shift; I didn't want to bug you."

Blaine moved his fingers until they were no longer laying on top of Tina's but instead grasping her hand tightly, "It doesn't matter. I'm here for you, no matter what or when. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And you should tell John to bar him from the pub. He can't get away with talking to you like that."

"Okay. I will, I promise." She smiled, but it was still small, and then she moved the conversation somewhere much lighter.

Blaine had sat chatting to Tina for a while longer, resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to see who he wanted to tonight. He'd gone upstairs eventually and done the dishes methodically, almost in a trance, not really focusing on the way his hands moved or scrubbed.

Maybe he'd come back tomorrow. 

* * *

Tuesday

It was early when a child ran down the hallway outside Kurt's room, yelling loudly, which was followed by a heavy thump and then sobs. And then after that; hurried whispers from who Kurt could only assume were the parents.

His eyes were still squeezed shut, hoping it would only be a momentary interruption from sleep as it was barely seven, but it seemed he was awake for good. He huffed, mumbling comments about keeping your children under control that no one heard but himself and his pillow.

He got up, dressed, and paid to have the buffet breakfast downstairs at the hotel's dimly designed dining room. He lent in to the English-ness of it all, helping himself to baked beans and breakfast sausages and cooked tomatoes. He thought about how much his dad would love London, especially this breakfast, and smiled softly. He'd call him tonight; let him and Carole know that his solo-trip wasn't going too badly. Burt had offered to come with him, but Kurt had decided it was definitely weirder to come here with his father on what was supposed to be a couples trip, than to come alone. 

He left the hotel with a takeaway coffee firmly in his hand and started to make his way to the Natural History Museum. He got there a little early - the place didn't open until ten - so he found a bench nearby and settled in, watching as all sorts of people hurried past him. The feeling of London wasn't that overwhelmingly different from New York - busy people, busy places.

The museum was huge and he spent the better part of four hours wandering through its high corridors and exhibition rooms once it was open. Eventually, fatigue and hunger got the better of him so he found his way to the museum cafe. It was a little overpriced, but his sandwich was good and it felt nice to give his legs a break.

Once he felt like he had regained a bit of energy, he crossed over the road to the Victoria and Albert Museum. He was eager to check out their fashion and design collections and the buzz that started inside of his chest when he found the right room reminded him how much he loved his job. He took a few photos of some garments with the intention of sending them to Isabelle later. 

A few days after Adam had broken up with him, he'd told Isabelle that he didn't need the week off for London anymore. She wouldn't take his vague excuses for an answer and had eventually gotten the real reason why he wasn't taking the trip out of him.

"There's no way I can face a whole week in London by myself, Isabelle. I just can't."

She'd set him with a peculiar look, almost wild, and it was far more intimate and knowing than when he'd just been an intern at Vogue.com. "Nonsense. You absolutely can. And you will." At the exasperated and, honestly, panicked look on his face, Isabelle had softened her features and reached out for his hand, "Heartbreak is painful, Kurt, I know it is. But London is magical and exploring the world is never a bad thing. As your boss and also your _friend_ , I really think you should go. You'll regret it if you don't."

She'd patted his hand and then left him alone to realise that she was right.

He snapped a picture of a particularly bright, striped suit that he knew Isabelle would hate. Neither of them could resist a quiet, huddled critique session about bad clothes. Some of the pieces in the collection, however, were beautiful and so incredibly crafted that they made Kurt's heart ache a little bit with love and admiration for fashion and the history of it. 

He stopped off for an early dinner in a pub in Hammersmith on his way back to his hotel, determined to not make a third appearance in the other one. The meal was good but he didn't stick around for long after he'd finished. He just wanted to get back to the hotel and unwind. 

After he'd called his dad but before he fell asleep, he affirmed something to himself: _there is no point allowing yourself to develop a crush on a boy who seems to have a girlfriend and who lives in London._

He fell asleep feeling okay, but a little empty. 

* * *

Tuesday nights at the pub were usually pretty calm. West London was still running on its early-in-the-week pace, and the people who did come in were chatty and cheerful. Tonight was an exception to that usual rule.

Blaine had been run off his feet since he'd started the shift - there had been a bunch of 18-year-old's at the dart board all night, the volume of their banter rising after every drink, and the local cycling club were having a large meeting that took up half of the place - and it wasn't until an hour before closing that it ceased to be overwhelming. He groaned quietly just thinking about last call because there was still a particularly rowdy group of guys in the corner that were bound to give him some grief. He took a moment to just lean against the bar and catch his breath.

There had been no sign of him - of Kurt - tonight. Blaine wasn't sure why he'd assumed he would see the man again. One friendly chat over a couple of free drinks certainly didn't create an obligation. There was no reason to think he'd want to come back. It was just that Blaine really _wanted_ him to. 

Twenty minutes before midnight - when their liquor license required them to stop serving - he rang the bell. The landlord, John, hated it when they used the bell, but there were far too many people still crammed into the small pub for him to go around and tell everyone one-by-one.

"Last call!"

He was desperate for this to be as painless as possible. The busy shift coupled with the lack of an appearance from a certain someone had put him into an unfortunate mood, and he really wasn't in the right head space to deal with drunken straight men begging for him to bend the rules just for them. The rowdy group that he'd been sizing up earlier surprised him by bringing all of their empty glasses to the bar and waving appreciative hands at him as they retreated outside.

He called out a thanks to them, breathing a sigh of relief. A couple of groups came up for another round but most filtered out into the street. He served one of his favourite late-night customers, Alan, one more beer before turning all of the taps off and starting the cleaning process that they had to do at the end of every night shift. After he'd made sure all of the glasses had been through the sterilizer and the toilets were empty and he'd mopped, he started his usual subtle (and sometimes decidedly _not_ subtle, on worse nights) hints that he wanted to lock up. He turned the music down, softer and softer, until it faded to nothing and the silence in the room was enough of a message. He didn't have to start turning lights off, thankfully. The few that were still scattered around the room made their way out the front to finish their drinks, those who were regulars enough to know him calling out thanks and goodnights to him.

Blaine locked the door after Alan patted his shoulder and slipped outside too, and finished off the last few chores he had to do. Once he was sure everything was in order, he pushed open the back door that led to his and Tina's flat, flipping all of the lights off as he started climbing the stairs.

It was nearing one in the morning, which is why he let out a startled breath when he bumped into Tina - he was on his way to their shared bathroom and she was slinking out of the kitchen.

"Shit - Tina." He tried to get his breathing back to normal, "I didn't think you'd still be up. You gave me a fright."

"Sorry." Her voice was sheepish and she clutched a packet to her chest defensively. "I didn't mean to."

Blaine reached out and pulled at her arm until she revealed what she was hiding, "Hula Hoops? At this hour?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, inquiring, teasing lightly.

She scowled at him and chose to ignore the comment entirely, "How was your shift?"

"Busy," he admitted. "I don't know, I just..." He let his voice trail off, not actually wanting to delve into the fact that he was disappointed that a stranger hadn't come back to see him. When he put it like that, it sounded pathetic. He finally finished, "Nothing. Sorry, just ignore me."

Tina looked like she was about to press it, but Blaine was exhausted and just wanted to have a shower and then sleep. He reached out and squeezed her hand, quickly, hoping that it would reassure her that he was totally fine, before heading into the bathroom.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep once he was finally in bed. 


	3. Chapter 3

Wednesday

Somewhere between his shower last night and waking up this morning, Blaine had decided to put Kurt out of his mind. He barely knew the man. Sure, it was going to be hard to shake the image of his face - angled and _soft_ and beautiful - out of his mind, but it was just one conversation. He could forget one conversation, especially if he was never going to see the man again.

Except, then he saw the man again.

Blaine had the whole day off. Tina was working the day shift, and Mike was doing the night shift with one of the casual staff members. He had grand plans; buy every snack he could possibly desire and then spend the entire day in bed watching bad movies. That was why he was in the Sainsbury's just down the road from the pub, the collection of items in his basket starting to lean towards embarrassingly unhealthy. Maybe he should buy some fruit to balance it out-

And then there he was.

He didn't _have_ to say anything to him. Kurt, who was pouring over the apples and trying to find the best one, hadn't noticed him yet. He could just turn around and walk away and continue to forget about him. He could. He didn't.

"Kurt?" He said it like a question, as if he barely remembered it - as if he hadn't been turning the name and the man behind it over and over in his mind for the past two days. Kurt seemed startled, more startled than Blaine expected considering how softly he had said his name. He saw the recognition flicker in the other man's eyes and relaxed a little, settling into a soft confidence now that he knew Kurt remembered him. Still, for formalities, he said, "I'm Blaine, from the pub the other night."

"I know. I remember you," he smiled shyly, and Blaine couldn't help but notice how utterly adorable that was. And then the man rearranged his features, closing off a little, and resorted to a light tone to say, "Has the pub gone bankrupt yet from all of those free drinks you've been handing out?"

Interesting. Blaine could read into that, like how maybe he was trying to figure out if Blaine was giving out free drinks to everybody, or just him, but instead he simply chuckled, "Not yet."

Kurt just nodded, going back to his apple investigation, but there was something about his body language that was definitely an invitation. Blaine lent his hip against the edge of the structure holding the apples, "Has London been showing off for you, like she ought to?"

Kurt finally found a suitable fruit and put it in the basket that was hanging from his forearm and turned back to Blaine, considering him and his question. "London's been a little shy, actually. Beautiful, sure, but she hasn't pulled out all of the stops yet."

Blaine grinned; he could keep up. "Ah, alas. I have hope though - for the two of you."

Kurt rolled his eyes at that, but it was in a good-natured way which made Blaine think there was a chance he was enjoying this exchange, rather than terrified that Blaine was stalking him. Kurt wandered forward towards the next display, but Blaine hung back, waiting for a signal that it was okay for him to follow.

"Are you working today?" Kurt said over his shoulder.

That was all he needed. He pushed off and made his way over to Kurt, "No, actually - it's my day off."

It hung between them for a while because Kurt did nothing but nod. Blaine sort of knew he'd meant something by saying that, but he didn't want to come on too strong. He grabbed a peach and threw it into his basket, and then he and Kurt started to explore the rest of the aisles, naturally shuffling along together and starting to chat pleasantly. When they reached the refrigerated section, Blaine asked Kurt what sights he'd seen so far.

"Oh, you know, I did the museums. And, well, I saw the Tower of London and the London Eye. The classics."

Blaine studied him. There was a friendly smile plastered to Kurt's face as he reached out for a berry smoothie, but his tone was cracking a little, as if convincing himself of something. "Are you having fun?"

"Sure," but his eyes didn't lift from his basket.

" _Kurt._ " Blaine basically pleaded. He knew he was probably pushing the boundaries a little, begging this stranger to open up to him and admit that his holiday wasn't going the way he'd hoped it would, but there was something about this man that made him desperate. Desperate to fix this, desperate to help him, desperate to make him happy. Hero-complex, he supposed.

Kurt sighed and looked up at Blaine. His brows knitted together briefly as if he were trying to figure Blaine out (good luck - Blaine was still trying to figure this whole thing out himself) and then he just looked resigned, "I don't know; London is wonderful and I _know_ I should be so grateful that I'm even here at all. It's just... it sucks doing it all alone when I was supposed to be doing it with someone."

Right. There was an ex-boyfriend. One who he assumed had only adorned the 'ex' part very recently, judging by the pain in his tone. Blaine took a deep breath; sure, yes, Kurt was beautiful and looking him in the eyes sort of made his stomach twirl and he wanted nothing more than to take his hand and hold onto it until London belonged to them, but Kurt's heart was broken. So he made a decision, "You seem like you could use a friend."

Kurt, who had been waiting for him to say something, smiled cautiously, "I suppose I could, yes."

"Well, you're in luck." Blaine raised a palm to his chest and leaned forward slightly, "I happen to be an excellent friend."

Kurt just raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but saying nothing.

"Let me show you around!" And when Kurt still didn't say anything, he softened his tone, "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll be like your own personal tour guide."

Kurt was still watching him, silent, obviously trying to figure something out in his head. Blaine waited.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Kurt laughed, "Yeah. Yes - okay."

"Okay." Blaine smiled at him, "I'm going to go and put all of this crap back," he gestured to his basket full of snacks he would no longer need. "Meet me outside the pub in an hour."

Kurt just nodded and raised his hand, waving slightly at Blaine's retreating figure. He seemed a little bit bewildered, but Blaine was sure he had seem some sort of spark in his eyes when he'd agreed. And now he had a whole day to turn that spark into a burning flame.

* * *

Kurt was standing in the middle of his hotel room desperately trying to catch up.

He had wandered down to the supermarket in search of a lighter breakfast than what the hotel offered, and then Blaine had been there - _Blaine the Bartender_ had been there - and all of a sudden, he was agreeing to spending the day with him. He didn't know where they were going or what they were doing or how to dress for any of it. This was crazy.

He blamed Blaine's eyes.

They looked sweet, like honey, and were always swirling when he looked into them. And there was so much kindness in the swirls. How could he say no? Even if it did severely interrupt his plan to _not_ develop a crush on the maybe-straight and living-in-London bartender he barely knew.

Kurt took a steadying breath and altered his outfit a little - not too much that Blaine would notice he'd changed for him, but enough to tidy up the look. And he added a neckerchief. He checked his hair in the mirror, grabbed a light jacket and made his way out of the hotel and to the pub.

Blaine was already outside, leaning casually against an outdoor table chatting to an old man who had a beer in front of him despite the fact that it wasn't even midday yet. Kurt watched him for a moment. There was an ease to him; the way he held himself, leaned against things, used his hands to talk, smiled at people. Kurt often felt stiff and out of place and not grounded, but Blaine seemed like he belonged in every space he stood. His hair was tamer than it had been at the supermarket, still curly but less unruly, and Kurt bit the smile that appeared at the thought that he'd done that for Kurt. _I happen to be an excellent friend_ , he'd said. Excellent friend. _Friend._

Focus. "Hey, Blaine." He forced his tone to sound normal, friendly but nonchalant.

Blaine turned towards him from his spot on the table and smiled at him so brightly that Kurt almost groaned out loud at the sight of it. This torture was what he deserved for agreeing to spend an entire day with this beautiful man, platonically. He was going to have to work hard to act like a functioning human being. 

"Kurt!" He stood up, and then turned back to the man he'd been chatting to, "I'm off, Gary. Take it easy, okay? I don't want to hear that Tina had to call you a cab this early on a Wednesday." His tone was cheerful and joking, and the man let out a rough laugh before raising his glass at Blaine as a goodbye.

Blaine walked the few steps over to Kurt, that stupidly warm smile still on his face. "You ready?"

"Yes, absolutely. Lead the way."

Blaine held out his hand to gesture which way they should go and then walked alongside Kurt, quietly steering them towards the right bus stop. Blaine mentioned that their bus was only a few minutes away and then they stood in silence, Kurt desperately trying to figure out if it was comfortable or not. Blaine seemed fine. Calm. A bus pulled up and Blaine motioned with his head that this was theirs. They used their bank cards to tap on and Kurt followed Blaine to a couple of free seats towards the back. He was just about to ask if they could sit upstairs on the second floor to get the full double-decker experience when Blaine spoke.

"We're only on this bus for a few stops."

Kurt nodded, "Do I get to know where we're going?"

"Nope." Blaine smiled again, _god dammit_ , but this time there was a cheek to it, "You're going to have to trust me."

"That's a lot to ask of someone you barely know," he pointed out.

Blaine's face suddenly rearranged, taking Kurt's comment more seriously than Kurt had intended it. "Oh, shit, Kurt. I'm so sorry - I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe-"

Kurt cut him off, "It's okay. Please, breathe. I was mostly teasing."

"Mostly?" Blaine raised his eyebrow at him, but he seemed to have relaxed. 

"Well, it _is_ true that we barely know each other. I don't think you're about to murder me, but I am keeping my wits about me."

"Oh, of course." Blaine nodded along, "That's smart. I should probably keep mine about me too."

"Yeah, you probably should."

They stared at each other for a while - long enough that Kurt forgot what it was exactly that they were talking about - with a soft, assessing look between them. Kurt tried to remind himself that Blaine had asked him out today as a friend, and more importantly, that he was still mending a broken heart. He was, however, struggling to conjure up any sort of misery about that when Blaine's leg was pressed up against his. 

"We're here," Blaine murmured.

"What?" Kurt said, shocked when it came out a little breathless. _Get it together, Hummel_. "Oh."

They jumped off the bus and Kurt followed Blaine into the tube station. Blaine didn't check on his phone or ask for directions; he just led the way with no hesitation until they were standing on the platform waiting for the train. God, was he really that impressed by basic London navigational skills? Apparently so. 

They were on the tube for about half an hour but because it was nearing the middle of the day, it wasn't too full. They had their pick of seats and then spent the whole ride talking about all of the crazy and insane things Blaine had experienced working at the pub. As they talked, their bodies swayed and rocked with the motion of the train, and every now and then their knees knocked together. 

"I was just about to go to bed, _finally_ , and I looked out the window as I was closing my curtains, and sure enough, they were still outside. But one of them had pulled a knife-"

" _What?_ " Kurt gasped, a little embarrassed by how engrossed he was in these tales.

"I know! I had to call the cops and then they had to take my statement. I didn't get to bed until almost five in the morning."

Kurt shuffled back in his seat after realising his entire body was turned towards Blaine, "Wow. I mean, I always figured there would be incidents, what with all of the alcohol involved, but boy."

"Yeah," Blaine chuckled, but it didn't sound entirely light.

"Is it worth it? All of the alcohol-charged nonsense and the misplaced flirting and insufferable customers?"

Blaine considered it for a moment, and then said, "Yes. I think so. It means I get to live in London and I got to meet Tina." He smiled at that, to himself.

Oh. That must be the (maybe) girlfriend. Kurt had slipped back into the mindset of just assuming Blaine was gay because it felt easy between them and things didn't often feel easy between Kurt and straight men. Well, at least, not straight men who didn't really know him. But then he remembered the kiss on the cheek. His hand covering hers. The intimacy in how they had looked at each other. 

Before Kurt could say anything, Blaine continued, "Besides, not all of the customers are insufferable. Sometimes we get lucky."

Kurt looked at him sharply. He was smiling at him with that same swirl in his eyes, as if he was offering for Kurt to take that whatever way he wanted; an offhand comment, or on purpose. Kurt hummed, but didn't respond other than that, and they sat in a warm silence until Blaine lightly nudged his knee when they pulled into Westminster.

It was obvious that Blaine was trying to get them out of the station as quickly as possible. He would sort of reach out for Kurt to show him which way to go, but would never actually touch him. It was impossibly polite and Kurt had to stop himself from reaching out too and just taking his hand. He also didn't mind the chaos of the station today as he was luggage-free again. He was used to it and it sort of felt like home, in a way. New York-home, not _home_ -home.

When they finally came out onto street level, they were right opposite Big Ben.

"Wow." Kurt said, stopping in his tracks.

Suddenly, Blaine's hands were lightly gripping his arms and steering him to the side of where they had just ascended. His hands dropped almost as quickly as they'd been on him, and Kurt realised he'd just abruptly stopped in front of a large group of tourists. "Oops," he laughed. "Thank you." And then he gestured all around them, "I saw all of this on Monday but it's still just as breathtaking."

Blaine grinned at him, "I think so too," but it was obvious that he was far more adjusted to their surroundings than Kurt. And then, "I thought it might be nice to walk the rest of the way, is that okay?"

He just raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say, _do I really have a choice in the matter?_

"Right, come on. This way." His grin turned incredibly bigger and he started forward, and it wasn't long until Kurt fell into step beside him. They took their time, enjoying the city around them and pointing out interesting things they saw to each other. After ten or so minutes, Kurt's stomach begged him to ask.

"Is it okay if we stop for something to eat? I never got breakfast in the end."

Blaine didn't answer. Instead, he ran a little ahead and turned back towards Kurt, arms extended out wide in a 'ta-da' sort of fashion. Kurt looked around, trying to catch up and understand what was happening but came up empty. He came to a stop in front of Blaine and set him with an odd, inquiring look. 

"The Borough Markets." He tilted his head up towards a giant sign that said the same words he'd just spoken.

Kurt followed his eyes up, "Okay?"

Blaine realised then that Kurt had no idea what he was talking about, "Oh, it's a really cool food market! It's a little touristy, but the food is super nice."

"I don't mind touristy," Kurt smiled. And then so did Blaine, pleased that Kurt was happy with his choice. Kurt felt like he had to explain his patchy knowledge of London tourism, "I didn't do much research about London after he broke up with me." And then he added, "In protest."

Blaine nodded, understanding. "That's what you have me for."

They made their way into the market and based on Kurt's current hunger level, it seemed like some sort of heaven. He was overwhelmed by the choices, and they spent a while just walking around all of the different stalls and trying their tasters. "I don't think I've ever eaten this much cheese before in my whole life," Kurt laughed after the fifth cheese vender passed them yet another chunk to try.

They both found things to eat - Blaine, a meat pasty, and he reasoned to Kurt that it was basically lunch time by now anyway, while Kurt found a baker who had the most incredible pastries for sale and bought a cinnamon scroll. They found a free spot against the wall where they could perch, and people-watch, too.

"Can I ask you something?" Blaine spoke, breaking the silence that had settled between them as they ate.

"Sure."

Blaine hesitated, before, "What made you want to take this trip, despite everything that happened with...?"

"Adam," he finished for him. 

"Adam," Blaine echoed.

Kurt took a bite of his pastry to give himself a moment to collect his thoughts, but once he'd finished chewing, he told half of the truth. "My boss wouldn't let me cancel the time I had booked off."

"Is that the only reason?" His tone was cautious, as if he was wary of pushing too far.

"Well, both my father and my best friend offered to come with me. Not because they wanted to, though - it was out of pity. I told them I was totally fine to come by myself." He snorted, "And I'm stubborn, so here I am."

Blaine turned to him with a wildly amused look on his face, "So this is a petty trip?"

"I beg your pardon," Kurt said, faux offended. "I am not petty; I am simply maintaining my pride."

"Sure." Blaine grinned, and Kurt couldn't help but grin back. He also rolled his eyes, for good measure.

They had both finished their food so they did one last lap around the market so Kurt could buy some small jars of chutney to take back home as a gift for his dad and Carole. Then Blaine led them to the riverside and they walked along until Kurt saw the Shakespeare's Globe ahead of them.

"Oh! I've been here before. I did the tour the other day." He pointed at the theatre.

Blaine looked over at him, "Did you go into the Tate next door? That was my next stop, but we can skip it if you've already done it."

"I haven't."

Kurt let Blaine's chatter about the art gallery fill the air around him as they walked into the large building, his enthusiasm for the place evident in the way his words came out like a sort of song and how his chest lifted when they stood in front of a Monet. They were quiet as they walked around the place and Kurt was enjoying sneaking looks at the contemplative ones on Blaine's face. Based on what he'd told Kurt on the way in here, he'd seen these paintings a bunch of times, and yet he was just as mesmerised as Kurt who was seeing them for the first time. 

There was a moment, briefly, where Kurt allowed himself to acknowledge how romantic this could be - two people, until recently just strangers, together, wandering around an art gallery in a wonderful way. It was the perfect groundwork for a rom-com. And then the moment passed, and he forced himself to taste the word _friends_ again. 

They'd been at it for a couple of hours and Kurt's legs were starting to ache when Blaine looked at his watch and swore under his breath. 

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." He was mumbling and pulling his phone out of his pocket, typing quickly with his brows knitted together. Kurt decided to just wait. And eventually he said, "Okay, let's go."

Kurt raised his eyebrows, surprised at the way this man kept expecting him to just blindly follow him. And the fact that he kept doing exactly that. Once they got outside again, Blaine led them to a car that was pulled up at the curb. He opened the back door and lent in, "For Blaine?"

He couldn't hear the reply, but Blaine was beckoning him over and sliding inside the car, so it must have been affirmative. He slid into the car after him and shut the door. He looked over at Blaine to ask where they were going but there was a worry in the edges of him, so he thought better of it and decided to just trust him. Trusting him had been going okay so far. They pulled up outside a building with a large crowd swarming around it but it took him less than a second to realise where they were. He would know that shade of green anywhere. He turned to gasp at Blaine, but he was gone. 

And then the car door opened. Blaine held out his hand for Kurt to take, which he did, and Blaine said a polite thank you into the car before it drove away. Kurt's hand - the one that Blaine had just held to help him get out of the car (he would roll that chivalry around in his mind later) - lifted to his own chest, clutching. 

"Blaine." He breathed, "This is my favourite show."

"Really?" Blaine's voice lifted, a bubble, almost.

"Yeah. Really really."

When Kurt turned towards Blaine, he looked nervous. He could hear it in his voice, too, when he said, "You mentioned that you had wanted to see every West End show, and I figured you can't go wrong starting with Wicked."

"You definitely can't." Kurt smiled, feeling a little overwhelmed by the generosity of the situation and not entirely sure if he deserved it.

Blaine took a deep breath, the nervousness still wrapped around the intake but this time when he spoke, he made an effort to sound more in control, "This isn't too much, is it? I don't want to freak you out. It's just, London wanted to show off, that's all."

Kurt bit his lip. And then, "Hm. Is this London pulling out all the stops?"

"I'm sure she's still got something up her sleeve." Blaine glanced around at the thinning line and motioned towards the main doors, "We should... the show is starting soon. I was worried we weren't going to make it on time." Kurt let him walk ahead, taking the second that he definitely needed to get his heart rate under control, and then skipped a little to catch up. Yes, _skipped_. They had found their way to their seats when Blaine apologised, "It was a very last-minute purchase, so right at the back during the matinee was all I could get. Sorry."

Kurt wanted to tell him not to apologise; that this was the best thing anyone had ever done for him and that he was just excited to be in the room at all. But the lights went down and the band started playing, so all he could do was quickly whisper a thank you before he got lost in the show with Elphie and Glinda. 

* * *

Kurt had gone to get them ice creams during the intermission. 

He had pretended not to notice when Kurt had cried during 'Defying Gravity'. It had felt like whatever was happening inside of Kurt's mind in that moment was too important and belonged only to him. The selfish part of Blaine had wanted to ask him anyway, to know the exact reason why it had made him feel like that, feel that _much_ , because the thought of knowing such a wonderful and intimate part of Kurt made him kind of dizzy. He wasn't going to ask, though. He didn't want to push it. 

Taking him to this show had been walking the line, a little. It was hard to make it seem like it wasn't some big, romantic gesture. Sure, he'd love for it to be able to be, but he was very aware that Kurt was still nursing a broken heart after whatever his ex - well, Adam - had done. He kind of hated that he knew his name now. He shouldn't have asked. He was also weirdly jealous of Adam - that he had _had_ him _,_ once, he guessed - but he pushed the feeling away quickly.

"Boysenberry or chocolate swirl?"

Kurt slid back into his seat, no traces of the tears that had been falling down his cheek during the first act's closing number, and held out two ice creams.

"Chocolate swirl, if that's okay." Kurt seemed more than happy with the decision and dropped the choc-top into his lap.

They sat there for a moment, content in their mid-show spell. Kurt had sunken into the seat, and when Blaine looked over, he could see the happiness that was dancing on his cheeks. Kurt felt his eyes on him and met his gaze, "It's so magical, don't you think?"

"Yeah, it really is." Blaine said, and he was pretty sure his agreement was about more than just the show. "How many times have you seen it before?"

"Oh, more times than I can count." He looked up at the stage, longingly, "I could be an incredible Elphaba, if they'd let me."

Blaine smiled at that, "I've always wanted to play Fiyero."

There was a brief moment of silence and then Kurt turned back to him with a playful look in his eyes, "But do you think we could pull off the greatest love story in Oz?"

"I think that honour belongs to Glinda and Elphaba," he pointed out, choosing to go with the non-flirty option to that question. I mean, he had already surprised him with a West End show - he was right on the edge of too much. 

"Touché." Kurt laughed, and then the lights went down again.

* * *

The second the show ended, Kurt was on his feet giving the entire cast a standing ovation. He'd seen the show so many times on Broadway and he and Rachel had watched a bootleg or two during their many musical theatre-themed sleepovers in high school. But there was something about this viewing that he planned on filing away in his heart forever. Maybe it was the specific type of magic that London could offer the show, or maybe it was the man sitting next to him. Whatever it was, it felt more special than it ever had. 

Blaine offered to buy Kurt something from the merchandise stand, but Kurt refused, "No way - you've already paid for the tickets. Which, by the way, can I please pay you back?"

Blaine looked at him for a second and it was clear the answer was no. Instead, he said, "Are you hungry?"

Kurt nodded. He really was - all he'd eaten all day was that cinnamon scroll and the ice cream during the show. "Yes, desperately."

They crossed the street with a bunch of other theatre-goers, but when they all turned left, presumably towards the tube station, Blaine turned them right. They walked down a side street for a little bit and then came to a stop outside a tiny restaurant. Blaine asked if Kurt liked Italian so he nodded and then, again, tried not to think about how much this whole day had felt like one, glorious date.

It didn't help when the waiter seated them at a small, secluded table right at the back with a candle in the middle that was flickering onto the wall and made the whole scene look painfully enchanting. Blaine appeared unbothered while he skimmed over the menu, though, so either he didn't notice the blatant romance of it all, or he was that comfortable in the fact that this was _not_ a date.

They chatted about the show until their waiter reappeared with a jug of water and then took their orders. Once he had slipped away, Blaine set Kurt with an interested stare.

"So, tell me about the mysterious Kurt."

"I'm not mysterious," he countered. 

Blaine laughed at that, "We've spent an entire day together and all I know about you is that your name is Kurt, you have an ex called Adam, and you're from the States. Oh, and that you love The Golden Girls."

Kurt interjected, "That's already quite a lot to know about someone."

"Where are you from? What do you do? What's your family like?" He was smiling at him. Always with the smiling. "I want to know it all."

Kurt considered him for a moment. Someone he'd known for only a handful of hours demanding to know this much about him would usually send him running, but Blaine was warm and so goddamn charming about it that he wanted to spell out his bones for him, right then and there. He narrowed his eyes, "Ohio. I work for an online fashion magazine. And my family is... kind. And loving. And means everything to me."

Blaine didn't say anything; just stared at him and hoped for more.

Kurt cleared his throat, "And you?"

"Oh, no. Boring. Unimportant," he waved his hand dismissively. "What's Ohio like?"

"That's not fair."

Their food arrived and they both thanked the waiter, and spent a few moments quietly starting their meals. And then eventually - 

"Connecticut. You know what I'm currently doing. And... my family is complicated. My mom is great, my dad less so. My brother... well, he's..."

He looked lost for words, scrambling, and Kurt didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. He reached out and stilled his hand - the one that was rolling his fork around while he looked for the right word - with his own, hoping it was okay to do that. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Blaine gave him a thankful smile and Kurt returned his hand to his side of the table. He made sure to keep the conversation light for the rest of the meal and when they realised that they'd both been in their high school's show choir, it wasn't hard to do. They swapped competition disaster stories and nightmare teammates and set list debacles, laughing the whole way through. They might have even been at the same competitions, they realised, without even knowing it.

Once they'd both finished eating and their tales were winding down, Blaine looked up with a thoughtful expression hanging to his grin. "How did a couple of glee kids from the States end up here, seeing West End shows and eating at wonderful restaurants, in _London_?"

The look in Blaine's eyes was intense and incredible, like he couldn't quite believe his luck, and it made Kurt's breath hitch for a moment. So, all he could manage to say, with a mirroring smile on his face, was, "Beats me."

* * *

Blaine had let Kurt pay for half of the meal because if he'd insisted on paying, they would be veering far too much into the date zone. And they were already pretty bloody close. Now they were standing outside and he was asking Kurt if he still had it in him for one more stop.

"I think I could manage one more, sure."

"Perfect." He smiled. London still had something up her sleeve.

Blaine checked the tube map on his phone to make sure he knew where they were going and then led the way to their final stop. As Kurt was telling him a story about one of his friends from Glee Club - a girl named Rachel - they arrived at the piano bar in Soho that he and Tina had discovered on one of their first nights out together.

Kurt stopped mid-sentence when he realised where they were, "A piano bar?"

"Yeah. If you want to."

"I do."

They went inside and found a small table in the middle of it all. It wasn't completely packed, but there was a fairly normal Wednesday night crowd and the energy was contagious. People were drinking and singing along to the well-known songs that were being played for the room. Blaine got them a couple of cocktails, telling Kurt that he could get the next round when he'd protested. 

"Mm. Strawberry daiquiri - good choice." Kurt said, delighted by the drink in front of him now that he was placated by their agreement.

They talked for a while. Kurt finished his tale about his friend Rachel and the mischief they had gotten up to in high school - well, very tame mischief involving sneaking out for musical theatre-related purposes, if this particular story was anything to go by. Then Blaine told Kurt about some of his buddies from his high school, like Wes and David, and how they had been convinced that they were going to start a boy band after they graduated.

"I am _heartbroken_ for the world that you didn't," Kurt teased.

"Hey! We could have been the next Beatles for all we know."

The two men laughed at that, and then Kurt spoke far softer than their friendly banter just before, "Can I tell you something?"

He noticed the shift between them, around them, "Of course."

Kurt smiled and dropped his head, fiddling with the base of his glass. Blaine watched him spin it around and waited. Then, quietly, Kurt spoke, "It's my birthday today."

" _What?_ " That was _not_ what he was expecting. "Kurt-"

"It's not a big deal," he rushed to say. "Adam gave me this trip as a birthday gift and when I made the decision to come anyway, I knew it meant spending it alone. But... well. Because of you, I didn't have to. So, I guess I just really want to say thank you."

Blaine didn't know what to say. Kurt was looking at him like he'd hung the moon, but there was still a shade in his eyes that was demure and sheepish, as if maybe he was embarrassed about his admission. "I wish you'd told me at the beginning of the day. There could have been balloons and cake involved."

"Cake?" Kurt murmured lightly, "Dammit."

"Dammit indeed." And then Blaine stood up, suddenly hit with a crazy but maybe great idea. "This will have to do," he said, winking at Kurt and noticing the blush it brought to his cheeks. He turned away quickly as his own cheeks followed suit.

He wandered over to Steve, the man who was behind the melodies sounding out from the beautiful grand piano atop a small stage at the front of the room. They had become quite friendly over the numerous times Blaine had been back here since the first night. He looked up at Blaine and spoke without missing a beat - literally.

"Hey, Blaine. Haven't seen you in a couple of weeks."

Blaine made a feeble attempt to blame that on work and then he asked, "Is there any chance I can borrow your piano for one song? It's my friend's birthday and I wanted to-"

"Sure," Steve interjected. His fingers never left the keys, the Billy Joel tune he'd been playing still soaring around the room. "Gives me a chance to grab a drink."

"Thank you," Blaine beamed. That was easier than he thought it was going to be.

Steve finished up the song and then made his way over to the bar, leaving the bench free for him. He made a mental note to remember to tell Wes about this; knowing Katy Perry's entire repertoire was finally coming in handy. He sat down at the piano and took a deep breath - the two cocktails he'd already had weren't enough to make him forget that this was his first time properly performing to an audience, no matter how small, in a very long time. Since before he got to England.

He let his fingers tap out a sweet tune, just a short one, and then turned towards the microphone. "Hi everybody." He played another line of nothing in particular, just fiddling, "My name is Blaine and I hope you don't mind, but it's my friend's birthday today so... well, this is for him. For Kurt." He looked up to quickly catch Kurt's eye. He was sitting at their table with a soft, out-of-breath sort of expression on his face and his right hand was resting on his chest, over his heart. Blaine smiled at him before giving the piano his full attention again.

He let his fingers begin the melody, closed his eyes, and started singing.

 _ I heard you’re feeling nothing’s going right   
Why don’t you let me stop by   
The clock is ticking, running out of time   
So we should party, all night _

He opened his eyes, easing into the feeling of the words coming out of him, keeping his voice light and leaning into the pop of it. He could feel the music in his whole entire body. He shifted on the bench a little and decided to change the pronoun of the next bit, ignoring the implications of the lyrics.

 _If you_ _wanna_ _dance, if you want it all_   
_You know that I’m the_ ** _guy_** _that you should call_

_Boy when you’re with me_   
_I’ll give you a taste_   
_Make it like your birthday everyday_   
_I know you like it sweet_   
_So you can have your cake_   
_Give you something good to celebrate_

He looked at Kurt when he sang the word 'cake', hoping that he got it, that he was getting any of this. Kurt was clapping along, as were a lot of people in the room who had stopped their conversations to listen to Blaine's ridiculous gesture. Blaine almost laughed out loud when he realised that everyone was enjoying it, and the incredulous joy in Kurt's eyes stopped him from regretting his decision even when the words _we can get it on, so hot and heavy, till dawn_ left his lips. 

He played out the whole song, repeating the chorus over a couple of times and watching Kurt grin every time he sang the line about cake. Oh! He _did_ get it. He finished the song with a flourish of notes and a light, whispered, "Happy birthday," the same way Katy did it in the song. There was a second of silence when he finished, and then the room erupted into noise and claps and cheers. People were wishing Kurt a happy birthday, too, figuring out that the song was for him after all of the glances Blaine had thrown his way. 

Steve appeared, so Blaine shook his hand and gave him his piano back. Steve raised his eyebrows at Blaine, "You've got a great voice, kid."

"Thanks, Steve. And thanks for letting me do that."

Blaine felt a little nervous heading back over to their table. What if being serenaded in public wasn't Kurt's idea of a fun birthday surprise? But then Kurt turned back around from a happy-birthday-wishing stranger and locked eyes with Blaine. His eyes had been filled with a slightly distant friendliness but as soon as they registered Blaine, they turned a darker shade of blue or silver or both - Blaine was still trying to figure that particular mystery out - and far more intense.

"No one's ever serenaded me with a Katy Perry song before."

His tone didn't match his eyes; it was light and almost amused, and Blaine hoped that he was just trying to hide how much he'd actually enjoyed it. "Was that okay?"

Kurt watched Blaine sink back into his seat and then shifted his gaze to the side, "It was... the best birthday present I've ever been given." He was smiling to himself and when he looked back at Blaine, the shimmer in his eyes was full of gratitude and sincerity, "Thank you."

Blaine nodded, "Well, it's not every day that you turn..." He waited for Kurt to finish the sentence for him, desperate to know as much as he could about Kurt.

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five," he echoed. "You're beating me." And then, at Kurt's inquiring look, "I just turned twenty-four."

Kurt was about to say something when a lady from a neighbouring table walked over to them and asked to buy them a drink each - one as a birthday gift, and one to thank Blaine for sharing his voice. She was so earnest and sweet and the boys agreed bashfully, accepting the offer.

"I think I like London."

"Has she finally pulled out all of the stops?"

Kurt smiled down at his new cocktail, "Yes. She's definitely showing off now."

And then when Kurt looked up at him, he saw it. There was fire in his eyes, flickering and bright and threatening to move to his skin. Maybe it already had. And Blaine had to try and keep his heart from beating right out of his chest; he knew that he'd been the one to strike the match. 


	4. Chapter 4

After one more drink at the piano bar, they started to make their way back to Chiswick.

Kurt had had four cocktails. He wasn't really drunk, which surprised him, but he was definitely on the furthest edge of tipsy. The clumsy way Blaine had pushed the bar door open had made Kurt think he was feeling about the same. They took the train and then a bus, sitting on the top floor this time at Kurt's insistence. The energy between them was electric as they discussed Blaine's natural curls (Kurt had teased him about the state of his hair in the supermarket this morning, conveniently leaving out the fact that, actually, he'd do anything to run his fingers through them) and Kurt's dreams of becoming a designer one day. When they hopped off the bus, Kurt asked him something he'd been wondering since he'd seen Blaine emerge from the back door a couple of days ago, "Do you live at the pub?"

"I do, yeah. With Tina."

_With_ Tina. It wasn't enough to ruin the magic of the whole day but it was a reminder, a pinch. "Tina's lovely. She served me the day after I met you."

The pair had been walking side-by-side at a casual pace, but at his words, Blaine snapped his head to Kurt. "You came in on Monday?"

"Yeah?" Kurt had no idea why it mattered, or maybe he did, but he didn't want to let himself think it. That was dangerous territory. Wishful thinking territory.

"Oh." Blaine turned back to look ahead of them and when he spoke next his voice was decidedly offhanded, "It's a shame I wasn't working. It would have been nice to see you."

"But then I wouldn't have met Tina," he said, ignoring the memory of how disappointed he'd been at the time that she'd been the one serving him. 

"True," Blaine said thoughtfully, and then, "Hey, we're - Tina and I - we're going to see a new exhibition at the Saatchi Gallery tomorrow. You should come with us."

Kurt didn't reply immediately.

"If you're free, of course. And if you want to." Blaine added to the silence.

Kurt wanted to, of course, he was just furiously trying to weigh the pros and cons of spending the day with this beautiful man and the woman he was pretty sure was his girlfriend. To give him some time, he said, "I did have plans with the Queen tomorrow..."

Blaine looked like he was trying to stifle a laugh, "Oh, well, you can't cancel on the Queen."

"Definitely not." Kurt came to a stop outside his hotel.

Blaine had walked a few steps further before he realised that Kurt was no longer beside him. He turned around and retraced his steps, pulling up in front of Kurt, facing him, his hands in his jacket pockets. "Is this you?"

"It is." Kurt had finally made his decision, "And I'd love to come tomorrow, if I'm not intruding." He said the last part with emphasis, but Blaine didn't seem to pick up on it. 

"Of course not! Oh, this will be so fun. The exhibition is called, 'Existentialism, Realism and a Banana', whatever that means."

That sounded truly awful but a tiny corner of his heart made him feel like it would be worth it just to spend some more time with this man, "I can't wait."

Blaine told him that he and Tina would wait for him outside the hotel, and what time to be ready for, and then there was a few seconds of awkward silence. The kind of silence that hangs in the air at the end of a great date but both people are too scared to make a move. Which was ridiculous because this wasn't a date.

And yet, there the silence hung.

Kurt was just about to say something, anything, out of desperation, when Blaine finally did something. He laughed a little and reached out to touch Kurt's arm lightly, just above his elbow, and smiled. "Today was really great, Kurt. Thanks for trusting me and coming along."

His hand dropped and it took every ounce of Kurt's will power to not pout at the loss of contact. "I should be the one thanking you."

They smiled at each other for another moment and then Blaine started to back away, "Okay, well... I should probably leave you to it. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," Kurt confirmed. "Tomorrow."

Blaine was at the other end of the building when he called out Kurt's name. Kurt had been just about to push inside the main door so he paused and looked back curiously.

"Happy birthday!" Blaine almost-shouted from his distance.

Kurt chuckled. "Thank you!" he yelled back. 

* * *

He tried to stop smiling the whole time it took him to walk back to the pub, but it was a useless attempt. Bound to fail.

The pub was fairly busy when he arrived, with lots of customers sitting around outside enjoying their drinks and smoking cigarettes. A couple of them were regulars that he knew pretty well and he got suckered into sitting and having a chat with them. They teased him about where he'd been out this late but he managed to laugh off their inquiries before sneaking inside. 

Mike was serving someone but gave him a friendly head nod which Blaine returned, and then he saw Kitty, one of their casual co-workers. She was from Essex originally, but was living in London while she studied, and was one of the most interesting and terrifying people he had met so far over here.

"Hi," she said, her eyes sparkling kindly, "Where have you been?"

She was in a good mood. He stayed and chatted to her a little bit, just vaguely mentioning that he'd been out with a friend (which she had raised her eyebrows at but thankfully didn't push) before she got called away by a tipsy customer. Blaine was finally free to push through the back door and head upstairs, the sound from the speakers downstairs echoing in the hallways. He had gotten used to tuning it out. 

All of a sudden, he realised something. And it blurred the happy feeling he'd been carrying since saying goodnight to Kurt, making it heavier and confusing. He continued down the hallway to Tina's room. She was tucked up in her bed surrounded by blankets and popcorn, an old black-and-white film flickering on her laptop screen. 

He knocked lightly on the door, leaning against the frame and waited for her to look up. 

"Hey." She smiled at him, "Where have you been?"

Blaine did wonder for a moment why a twenty-four year-old man wasn't allowed to spend the day out without being hounded by everyone he knew about where he'd been, but unlike everyone else that had asked him, Tina's question wasn't laced with insinuations. She was just curious because she cared about him.

"I... Tina, can I talk to you about something?"

She moved her hand to her laptop to press pause and then motioned him over to her bed. He fell beside her comfortably. "What's happened?" Tina looked a little nervous, worry finding its way into the reassuring smile she was sending him.

Blaine hurried to explain that it wasn't anything bad, "Oh, no. Everything's fine. I spent the day with a guy, actually." Tina's eyes sparked and Blaine laughed, knowing Tina was a sucker for good gossip, "Don't get too excited; nothing happened."

"Okay," was all she said, waiting for him to explain properly.

"I met him on Sunday - he came into the pub and we had a really good chat and god, Tina, he's so pretty." Blaine basically whined the last bit. "He said he met you, actually. He's from back home, tall, perfect hair like this-" He used his hands to show the way Kurt's hair was always coiffed in a perfect sweep.

Tina bit her lip as she searched her memories from the past few days, "Oh! I know who you mean. He _is_ pretty."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "Well, I bumped into him at Sainsbury's this morning and we remembered each other, but when I asked him about how his trip was going, he just seemed so... defeated. So, I asked if I could show him around, because, you know-"

"-hero-complex," she finished for him.

He sent her an unimpressed stare, but he couldn't hold it for long. He chuckled, "You know me so well."

She waited for him to continue, and when she realised how caught up he was in his own thoughts, she gently nudged him, "So? What happened after the supermarket?"

"Oh," Blaine came back to her. "Well, he said yes. We spent the whole day together going all over London. We went to the Borough Markets, the Tate Modern. I took him to see Wicked. And then I sung him a song at our piano bar."

"This is all sounding very romantic."

"He's just gotten out of a relationship. And from what he's said about it, it seems like it was quite a serious one."

Tina nodded, finally starting to understand the mixture of heaviness and happiness that had been skirting along Blaine's skin since the second he arrived in the doorway. "Bad timing," she mused.

"The worst."

Tina hesitated, unsure if she should say what she wanted to, but she figured that the two of them were close enough at this point. "Blaine, I know you're the kind of person who feels a lot and wears his heart on his sleeve, but... you've only known this guy for a few days."

"I know," he said, and he sounded really tortured by that fact. As if he knew it was crazy; he really did. 

Tina decided to change tactics, "Is there a spark there? Can you feel it?"

Blaine thought about Kurt's eyes and the fire he had seen there. And then he grinned up at Tina, never missing an opportunity to lightly tease his friend, "Of course there is, Tina, you of all people know how charming I am."

Tina rolled her eyes and punched him on the shoulder, playfully, embarrassed by the reminder of the crush she'd had on Blaine when they'd first met, until he'd casually mentioned one morning that he was gay. She never had been good at picking up on things like that. " _Blaine_ ," she begged him to be serious. 

"I think so." His voice was much quieter than before.

"Okay, then why don't you go for it? Maybe he's looking for a dashing, handsome man to distract him from his heartbreak. You could be that distraction. Have a little fun."

Blaine shook his head and waited until he was ready to say it, and then, "There's something about him, Tina - it has to be everything, or nothing."

Tina looked at him with so much love and a desire to understand that Blaine wanted to _sob_ at the intimacy between the two of them, "That's kind of intense, Blaine."

He breathed out, and again said, "I know."

She pulled him into her arms, sideways, and rubbed softly up-and-down his arm. They stayed there for a moment and Blaine felt a little silly. "I wish I could do the whole casual thing, but I know myself. I'll just end up falling for him and then I'll be miserable when he doesn't feel the same way."

"You don't want to be just a rebound." Tina said, a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah. And I don't even know where he lives back home; he told me he's from Ohio but he could be on the West Coast by now for all I know."

Tina sat up and twisted her body until she was facing him, a stern but loving look on her face, "Then just be his friend. Enjoy spending time with him and getting to know him, but keep it platonic. Then he'll leave and you'll be okay."

"Okay," Blaine nodded, although the option didn't make him feel much better. "I can do that. Well, I guess I'll have to - I invited him to come to Saatchi with us tomorrow. I hope that's okay."

"Of course it is, Blainey. I'm excited to meet him properly." They lay there for a little while, each taking a quiet moment to appreciate the other before Tina took his hand in hers and squeezed, "Tomorrow will be fun."

Blaine agreed, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then retreated to his own bedroom.

* * *

Kurt held his mobile to his ear, smiling at the sound of his father and Carole singing an awfully off-tune rendition of 'Happy Birthday' to him. When it finally came to a close after numerous 'hip-hip-hoorays', Kurt chuckled, "Thank you guys, that was... wonderful."

"Sorry you had to hear that, kid. I just wanted to make sure you've got a smile on your face for your big day." Burt said.

"I do." Kurt assured him, "I've had a really great day, I promise."

Maybe even the best.

Burt seemed to believe him and let him babble about what he'd been up to. For some reason, he left out the Blaine part of it all. He made it sound like he'd gone to the market and the show and the piano bar alone. He never lied to Burt, but for some reason, it felt too complicated to explain that he'd spent the day with someone; to explain that he was still heartbroken about Adam, sure, and lots of this trip was sucking, but that today hadn't sucked at all because of a very handsome stranger.

Well, he wasn't a stranger anymore, he supposed.

"I'm just glad you had a good day, Kurt. I can hear it in your voice."

"London magic, and all that, I suppose." Kurt waved his hand airily, forgetting for a second that Burt couldn't actually see him.

"Well, good. Listen, I better go and help Carole with dinner but happy birthday, kid. I love you,"

"I love you too, Dad."

Once Kurt was ready for bed, he slipped between the sheets and smiled. He let his mind wander for a moment - glances and comments that were dancing with being flirty and a couple of touches, grazes, when he'd held his hand for just a second. The way Blaine's smiles tugged at every part of him, spreading everywhere, making the air feel warmer than it was. The song that was all for him.

For the first time in a long time, Kurt couldn't care less about Adam.

And he couldn't even entirely convince himself that his theory about Blaine and Tina was true. Because if it was, everything that had happened in the past twelve hours wouldn't make sense.


	5. Chapter 5

Thursday

"Guess what?"

Tina closed her bedroom door behind her, the scowl on her face directed more at the time of day than at Blaine, "What?"

"I've slept on it and I feel really good about it all. Calm. Relaxed."

"Okay," Tina murmured, rummaging around in her purse to check she had everything and giving Blaine no encouragement to continue or explain. 

But he did anyway, "I think I was just spiraling after spending the day with him because it's the first time in my life I've felt such an instant connection to someone and it freaked me out. But," he paused as Tina shuffled past him in the hallway, continuing his rambling as he followed her down the stairs, "I thought about it a lot last night, and really, what's the point of getting worked up over a guy I've known for barely five days?"

Tina nodded her head, pushing through into the empty and unopened pub. It was always weird being in the pub this early without their usual customers filling the air with noise and life. The morning light that was streaming through the windows made the dust dance, though, and that was sort of pretty. She maneuvered around the horseshoe-shaped bar before stopping just short of the front door, realising that Blaine was still talking.

"-literally no reason I can't just take a step back and be a good friend to him-"

"Oh my god, Blainey, I love you, but you have to shut up."

Blaine stopped talking immediately, taken aback by Tina's tone. She turned around to face him, knowing that what she was about to say was going to come out a lot harsher than it would if she had some coffee in her system. "It is eight o'clock in the morning, Anderson, and there is no caffeine in my bloodstream. Right now, there is not a single part of me that cares about your crush on this random guy."

" _Tina._ "

Ouch. She knew that voice. It was cracked and the last time she'd heard it was when Mike had made an offhand comment about the number of bowties he owned, and Blaine had taken it to heart. Shit.

"I'm sorry. I'm mean when it's early."

"Clearly."

She took a steadying breath to clear her mind of the grogginess and irritation she was feeling. It wasn't Blaine's fault that she'd gotten a less than ideal amount of sleep because she'd stayed up until two in the morning watching _Some Like It Hot_ or that there was no coffee maker in their falling-to-pieces apartment. She walked towards him and put her hand on his arm, trying to soothe away her own words. "I think it's really great that you're feeling better about the situation." The smile he gave her was sort of weak and betrayed him; he wasn't really feeling better about it, he was just trying to convince himself that he was. Tina sighed, squeezing the arm she was still holding on to, "Come on, we better get going."

* * *

Tina had forced Blaine to stop at a little café that was on the way to Kurt's hotel and he was certain they were going to be late. He was trying not to feel so restless and _weird_ but it felt like something was buzzing and sitting on his chest, or inside of it. Finally, Tina came hurrying out, juggling three coffees and offloading two of them into Blaine's hands as soon as she got to him.

He thanked her, and then said, "Drink up. I don't want you to be grumpy around Kurt and scare him off."

He was mostly joking and Tina knew that, but that didn't stop her from rolling her eyes dramatically and giving him a small shove. She did start drinking, though, and Blaine could see her shoulders smooth as the coffee found its way in to her veins. 

Kurt wasn't anywhere to be seen when they arrived despite them being five minutes late. Tina couldn't care less - she was more than happy to stand to the side and sip her coffee while they waited. Blaine was getting antsy when another five minutes passed and he was just about to head inside to ask a receptionist to call up to his room when Kurt pushed through the front door. 

He couldn't see Blaine or Tina yet. He was squinting up at the sky, taking in the early sunlight that was covering London in a wonderful glow. Blaine watched him smile into the sun and pull out a pair of black sunglasses, before his eyes traveled down Kurt's body to take in his outfit. His jeans were white and so unbelievably tight that Blaine couldn't breathe for a second. His top was looser-fitting and tucked in at the front, and a light jacket was hanging in his right hand.

Blaine almost yelped when someone kicked the back of his left leg (albeit lightly, and the yelp would have been an overreaction) and he spun around to find Tina staring at him, purposefully. He scowled at her, wanting to lecture her about how kicking was not an appropriate way to get his attention, but instead he turned back to Kurt. Kurt, who had just noticed them and was striding forward, had a loose smile on his lips.

"Hey."

He stopped just in front of Blaine and Blaine wondered for a moment if he should just shove the coffee at Kurt and run. Thankfully, though, he simply extended the cup casually. "Hey, Kurt. Coffee?"

Kurt took it from him and took a sip. His eyebrows were raised when he murmured, "A non-fat mocha?"

"It's what you ordered at the market yesterday." Blaine explained, trying not to feel sheepish or shy about it. It didn't mean anything that he had remembered what Kurt had ordered yesterday; had cataloged it away, had repeated it in his head over and over so he wouldn't forget it, even though he struggled to keep track of Tina's preference. Speaking of Tina-

"Hi, Kurt. I'm Tina. We met briefly the other day."

Kurt took Tina's outstretched hand and smiled at her, "Hi, Tina. It's lovely to meet you. Properly."

The trio made their way to the bus stop - the same one that Kurt and Blaine had walked to yesterday - and Blaine felt himself sort of hang back a little. Kurt had sent a small, curious glance at his slower pace, but Tina was warming up now that there was coffee in her system and she kept Kurt busy chatting about his trip so far. It continued like that on the bus. It was full of tired Londoners on their way to work, but they managed to find two free seats on the top floor. Blaine let Tina and Kurt take the seats, standing nearby and grimacing as Tina quizzed Kurt on his break up. He loved Tina, he really did, but any tact she had went out the window when it came to gossip.

Kurt, surprisingly, was being quite open with her. Up until now, Blaine had gotten the impression that he didn't really want to talk about it. And selfishly, that was fine with him; finding out that Adam was from Essex, and that he could sing, and that he was a couple of years older than Kurt - well, it was causing his chest to churn with a feeling he couldn't quite place. It's wasn't a good feeling, though.

"I still don't even know _why_. He just told me he couldn't be with me anymore, and left."

Tina reached out and clutched Kurt's arm, "Oh, Kurt. That's awful."

"Yeah," Kurt had murmured, and then moved the conversation on.

They jumped off the bus and made their way to the Underground which was even more busy than the bus had been. There was no space for conversation because of how many people were packed into their carriage, so the three of them just stood and swayed and exchanged small smiles whenever they caught each other's eyes. Kurt was adjusting his jacket over his arm when the train jolted forward unexpectedly and he fell forward into Blaine. Blaine's free hand reached out instinctively to catch him. He hadn't planned on the hand landing on Kurt's waist, though, and it felt entirely too intimate for the friendship vibe Blaine was aiming for. Once Kurt was upright and steady, he pulled his hand back.

"Sorry," he said quietly, his voice rougher than he intended.

Kurt just raised his eyebrows as if to say, why are _you_ apologising?, and grabbed back onto the pole above his head. Tina gave Blaine a weird look.

Oh, god. It was going to be a long day. He shouldn't have invited Kurt today; he should have just said goodnight and left with their perfect day together and that's all. It could have been enough.

When they finally arrived at the gallery, Kurt excused himself and nipped to the bathroom before they started the exhibition and Tina took the opportunity to slap at Blaine's arm.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"What?" Blaine pouted, rubbing the spot Tina had swatted at even though they both knew she hadn't hit him hard enough for it to hurt. "Nothing."

"I thought you said you were feeling okay about everything? You're being weird."

"I am _not_ being weird," he whined, but he was and he knew it.

He took a deep breath and mustered up every ounce of composure that he could. When Kurt came back, the three of them headed off to the right exhibition and Blaine managed to slip into some version of his normal, confident self. He had Tina and Kurt laughing at his commentary of the art in no time, but there was still a hint of something in Kurt's eyes that made it seem like he was still confused about Blaine's earlier behaviour.

Kurt fell in love with one particular piece and stood in front of it, transfixed. Tina asked him if they could wander ahead and he nodded, waving distractedly to show that it was okay. Blaine followed Tina and didn't think much of it when her hand slipped into his. The two of them had gotten to a point where they were perfectly fine with showing physical affection. Blaine supposed strangers assumed they were a couple, but that didn't really matter, since they knew they weren't. It was nice to have someone in his life he felt this comfortable around.

"You're doing much better." She kept her voice low because Kurt was still somewhat nearby.

Blaine just gave her a pointed look, begging her not to push it, but then a smile appeared because he couldn't help it. She smiled back and rolled her eyes, their hands staying connected until they came to the end of the exhibition and then they waited in the gift shop for Kurt.

"Sorry!" He rushed over to them, "Sorry, I just got caught up in..." He trailed off, gesturing in the general direction of the room he'd just hurried out of. 

Blaine assured him it was okay and that they hadn't been waiting long at all, trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break out at how adorable Kurt was when he was flustered like that. They hadn't discussed what their plans were for the rest of the day but they all naturally made their way out to the front of the gallery when no one was tempted by anything in the store.

Tina's phone buzzed as they walked back towards Sloane Square. "Oh!"

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Tina was typing quickly and took a moment before she looked up at the two men staring at her, "You remember my friend Mercedes?"

That was directed at Blaine, "Yeah, she came to stay a few months back?"

Tina nodded, excitement all over her face, "She's back in town. It all sounds very last minute, but she's doing a show tomorrow night or something. And she's brought her new beau!"

"Show?"

That was Kurt, and he was smiling interestedly. 

Tina nodded, "She's just put out her first record and they're trying to get her known over here. We should all go to the gig tomorrow! I'm not working and you're doing the day shift," again, directed at Blaine, and then she turned to Kurt, "I'm not sure if you had plans already but it would be so much fun, Kurt. You have to come."

"I'm in." Kurt nodded at Tina and then smiled shyly at Blaine, almost as if he was checking if that was okay.

"Me too," he made sure his returning smile was reassuring.

"Great!" Tina exclaimed. "She wants to catch up with me now, is it okay if I head off?"

Blaine wondered for a moment if Tina had made the whole Mercedes thing up in some elaborate plan to make sure Blaine was alone with Kurt. He was about to throw a glare her way for her meddling when he realised that she'd just invited them to a real gig, and that would be too elaborate, even for Tina. "Sure, say hi from me."

Tina dropped a quick kiss on his cheek as a goodbye before squeezing Kurt's arm and promising to see him tomorrow. Then she was gone, and Blaine and Kurt were standing on the pavement without a plan and apparently, no idea what to say.

It was Kurt who broke the silence, "How long have you guys been dating?"

Blaine blinked at him, "What?"

"You and Tina?"

He let out a strange noise, like a huff of air, amused and confused all at once. "Tina and I aren't dating." And then, even though he was _shocked_ that Kurt didn't already know, he added, "I'm gay."

"Oh!" Kurt exclaimed and smiled despite himself. "I guess that explains the outfits."

"What's wrong with my outfits?" he asked, immediately self-conscious.

Kurt looked horrified at how this conversation was playing out, "No, no. I mean - you dress really well."

"Oh, okay, phew," he said, resisting the urge to straighten his collar. He did quickly check that the bottoms of his pant legs were still rolled up the way he liked them to be. 

"Sorry." 

"It's okay," Blaine assured him despite having no idea what Kurt was apologising for. They started to walk slowly, still no plan or direction but the movement seemed needed. "So... _why_ did you think Tina and I were dating?"

The horrified look returned to Kurt's face for just a second before he rearranged it into something more controlled, "Oh, you just talked about her a lot and you seem really close. The hand-holding..."

Oh. It seemed that sometimes the assumptions could matter. "We are, yeah. She's become one of my closest friends."

"But you... bat for the other team, so to speak." Blaine smiled at the ground and cocked his head towards Kurt, squinting a little into the sun that was behind him. Kurt caught his gaze, "What?"

"Nothing." Blaine laughed, admittedly enjoying how much this whole misunderstanding was making Kurt squirm. "Yeah, I bat for the other team. Well, _your_ team."

He wasn't sure why he added the last bit or put any emphasis behind it, but there it was. Kurt's face didn't give anything away; he just shrugged and laughed lightly, "Yes, well... I don't really care for sports. I'm not sure why I went for that analogy."

So, "Lunch," he said instead. 

"What?" Kurt asked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic.

"Lunch. Let's get lunch."

* * *

It didn't take long for Blaine to forget about the conflicted way he'd felt this morning - not knowing whether or not he should put distance between himself and Kurt, or go all in, and which one would be worse. He'd dragged Kurt into the closest Nando's despite his skeptical, level stares, claiming that it was an essential British experience that he had to have. Blaine had barely been working at the pub for a week before Mike had taken him to one.

"I don't get it. It's just chicken?" Kurt had asked once they were sitting down.

Blaine lent forward on the table and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Don't let them hear you say that."

And the way that Kurt laughed at that made the knots inside of Blaine's stomach untie, and everything was okay. The ease that they'd had with each other from the day before came flooding back. They talked about the exhibition and how nice it was that the sun was shining and Kurt asked him what his favourite movies were. Blaine told him as they headed over to the counter, and then accused him of being purposefully contraire when he ordered a vegetarian salad. Kurt had simply pursed his lips in that way that Blaine was getting used to already, as if he was trying not to laugh.

He didn't say anything when Kurt stole a few of his peri-peri chips despite his insistence that he'd be fine with 'just a salad'. Blaine liked that he felt like he could.

He'd give him his burger, too, if he asked. 

* * *

Blaine had been hit with a wonderful idea once they'd finished their meals, or at least that's what he'd said. Kurt wasn't so sure, though - they'd been wandering around the streets near the Nando's they'd had lunch at for at least fifteen minutes and Blaine was looking more and more flustered. Eventually, he pulled out his phone and muttered a, "Sorry."

Kurt just nodded. He didn't mind waiting.

"Okay. This way."

Blaine grabbed his hand to lead him the right way. It seemed so purposeful (the exact opposite of his unsure gestures at Westminster station yesterday) and Kurt looked at the contact, abruptly. He knew that Blaine was used to casual physical touch - the way he acted around Tina proved that - but Kurt was definitely not. He'd spent many years learning how to detach from people, to withdraw, to not overstep. So many people thought Kurt just existing was overstepping, imposing into their boundaries. He hated that he had let himself become that way, so distant, but that's just how it had been in Ohio. And sure, it's not like Blaine hadn't touched Kurt briefly yesterday (his hand in Blaine's as he got out of the car, a light touch to the shoulder or arm here and there, their knees knocking on the train) but this felt different. Deliberate.

Kurt shook his head, willing everything he was feeling to go away. And then he remembered that the last person to hold his hand like this was Adam, and the way that thought made him feel was confusing, and good god, was he going to cry?

Blaine seemed to sense Kurt pulling back a little and dropped his hand, almost as if he hadn't realised he'd been holding it. Maybe not deliberate, then.

"Are you okay?" Blaine seemed concerned, "Sorry, for-"

"No, it's-" Kurt cut him off. He took a deep breath and put every single confusing feeling about Adam and Blaine away, folded neatly. He could deal with that later. "Okay, I'm good. Let's go."

Blaine seemed unconvinced but he didn't push it. He didn't take Kurt's hand again, but he still led them to where he'd been trying to take them all along: Harrods. 

"Oh!" It came out like a squeal. Harrods had been one of the few things on Kurt's small and very last minute to-do list, scrawled on a napkin on the plane trip over.

Blaine grinned. If he wasn't so cute, Kurt would be annoyed at that goddamn self-congratulatory grin that he'd already seen multiple times when Blaine knew he'd gotten something right. Kurt rolled his eyes and led the way inside. 

The department store was giant and beautiful and there were so many people, everywhere, and Kurt made a beeline for the men's designer collections. Kurt could sense Blaine watching him as he took in all of the clothes, caressing suits and coats and feeling the softness of scarves and sweaters. He was fiddling with the lapel of a Tom Ford suit jacket, inspecting it, marveling at it, when Blaine moved closer and asked if he was having fun.

"I think I might move here."

"To London?" Blaine quirked an eyebrow, amused.

Kurt hummed, "Here specifically."

Blaine laughed at that, softly, and looked around them at all of the beautiful, expensive clothes. "I wish I could afford anything in this place."

Kurt frowned. He did too, desperately. Then he realised that Blaine was looking longingly at a display of bowties. He wanted to tease him about it, payback for the earlier salad jokes, but Kurt was the first to admit that sometimes a bowtie was the perfect accessory. He hadn't seen Blaine wear one yet, but Kurt knew the look in Blaine's eyes. He knew it very well.

He walked over to the display and checked the price tag. He let out a small whistle; they were still wildly expensive despite their advertised sale, especially considering they were just a piece of fabric that he could make in his sleep, but he had a little bit of spending money and it was the least he could do. He waved Blaine over and started sifting through the options. He found two that felt right for Blaine - one was striped with a deep maroon and navy, and the other was brighter and checkered.

He held them up to Blaine and cocked his head to the left, thinking. "Which one do you prefer?"

"What?"

Kurt ignored his confusion and swiveled him around until Blaine could see himself in the strip of mirror against the wall and rested the undone bowties over his shoulder, one on each side. Then he repeated, "Which one?"

Blaine looked like he still didn't entirely understand what was happening but he considered Kurt's question all the same and eventually pointed towards the striped one. Kurt nodded, pleased with his choice and placed the other one back where he'd found it. 

"What are you doing?" Blaine was jogging a little to catch up with Kurt, who was marching towards the service counter.

Kurt didn't say anything, just waited for the lady in front of him to finish buying whatever it was she was purchasing, thankful that she was the only person in front of him. Blaine caught on and said Kurt's name, and there was a question there. Kurt just gave him a kind but stern look, and then made his way to the desk when the clerk waved her hand.

It didn't take long for the transaction to go through and he made his way over to Blaine who had found a spot against the wall to lean on while he waited. 

"Here you go." Blaine's eyes caught Kurt's gaze for a moment and the question that was in his voice earlier was now in the swirls. "It's just a little thank you. For getting London to show off and pull out all of the stops," he explained, waving his hand a little to make it seem like not a big deal.

Kurt was worried that Blaine was going to fight him on it but he smiled and took the box that Kurt was extending to him. "Thank you, Kurt."

It was so sincere and the gratitude found it's way under his skin. He could get used to being the reason behind the way Blaine was smiling like that. 

He really could.

* * *

He pretended like it was a hardship. 

As if taking Kurt to Bond Street after Harrods and letting him wander past designer store fronts, following him inside some of them just to touch the fabrics, watching his eyes light up when they came across the Alexander McQueen shop, was a drag. He teased him, playing up an exasperated-boyfriend-on-a-shopping-trip role every time Kurt pushed through yet another door, but the uncontrollable grin on his face gave him away every time. 

"You're having a good time," Kurt threw over his shoulder as he stood admiring a beautiful McQueen coat. It was all-black, the top half a soft cotton and the bottom half was leather, double-breasted.

"I am," he agreed, dropping the pretense. "Try it on."

Kurt didn't look away from the garment, "I could never afford it."

It was a repeated sentiment; the pair of them had been commenting that all bloody day, so Blaine stepped forward and took the coat off the display. Kurt looked a little scandalized at the way he had just taken it, as if it meant nothing to put your hands on a $3000 jacket. Still, he let his arms hook through the sleeves when Blaine held it out for him and didn't flinch when he smoothed the fabric over his shoulders once the coat was sitting properly. He spun Kurt around carefully and started on the buttons. It wasn't until he was tying the belt around his waist that he discerned three things; the irony of the fact that he was putting clothes _on_ Kurt, that what he was doing was rather intimate (goddamn Kurt's waist and the way his hands always seemed to find their way there), and that Kurt was looking at him with a scattered expression.

For one tiny second, or maybe many, many seconds, he couldn't gather a single reason why he shouldn't kiss him.

Then Kurt took a step back and cleared his throat.

And all of the reasons fell onto Blaine, hard and heavy, as if the ceiling had been holding on to them. _He's mending a broken heart, he just needs a friend, he's probably only in London for a few more days, you don't want to be his rebound, just because he's gay doesn't mean he's feeling anything for you._

"Sorry," he said. They seemed to be doing a lot of that; apologising but not really explaining what for. 

Kurt seemed to have shaken himself out of whatever moment had just passed and smiled at Blaine, friendly, "What do you think?"

He put a hand to his hip, modelling the coat, and Blaine nodded his approval. "They ought to just give it to you."

"Yes, they really ought to."

Kurt took the coat off and returned it to its display, slowly, as if savouring every second the fabric slid between his fingers. Blaine took the moment to check his phone and swore under his breath.

"What's wrong?"

Blaine looked up at Kurt to find him hovering nearby, seeming a little nervous all of a sudden, and he cursed himself for acting all over the place today. Kurt was probably desperate for this day to be over and to stop having to catch up with whatever weird way Blaine was handling his feelings.

"Oh, nothing, I just noticed the time. I have to head back for my shift."

"Ah. I see." Kurt smiled at him a little sympathetically, "Is it okay if I stick around here? There are a few more shops I want to see."

As much as Blaine would love to spend the tube ride back to Chiswick with Kurt, it was probably better this way. He could use the time to regroup and figure out how to act around him tomorrow night.

"Will you be okay finding your way back?" Kurt just looked at him in a way that made it very clear that yes, he would be just fine getting back, and Blaine chuckled, "Of course. Well, have fun and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh, yes, what time is tomorrow?"

Blaine glanced at the text message he'd sort of clocked earlier, "Tina said you should come to the pub at five, and we'll all head there together."

"Perfect. I'll be there."

Blaine nodded and smiled and waved his bowtie box a little bit as a goodbye before walking out of the store, to the tube station quickly, and into the train carriage when it pulled up. He didn't even care that it was full and he was crowded into a small corner.

When he finally got back home, he had just enough time to splash some water on his face and change his top before he was flying down the stairs and into the pub. It was busy - Thursday nights usually were - and Kitty was working again. Over the course of the night they had to juggle a group of underage kids trying to order drinks, one of their regulars oversharing about her shambles of a marriage which resulted in sobbing and a very uncomfortable Kitty demanding that Blaine be the one to comfort her, and kicking out an asshole who was trying to start a fight with anyone who would engage in a conversation about politics with him. Blaine didn't mind the chaos tonight. 

For some reason, the chaos was keeping him calm. 

* * *

Kurt had lingered in a few more shops, wishing more than anything that he could buy something. Vogue paid him well, sure, now that he was an employee and not just an intern. But he had stupidly expensive New York rent to pay and he liked to keep his savings well topped up in case his dad ever needed it for medical bills. Burt would never ask him for it, and probably never accept it if Kurt offered, but it made him feel safe to know the money was there. Also, he got to keep samples from work fairly regularly so it always seemed silly to spend money on designer clothes.

And so item after item had to stay on their racks and Kurt was resigned to just admiring them.

He had dinner in a brightly lit sushi place nearby, acutely aware of how alone he was now that he was eating a meal. He thought about last night, and lunch today, and wished Blaine was sitting across from him. And then he realised that the feeling inside of him right now was longing. _Longing_. Oh god.

It had been put into the open today that they were both gay. It had been said, spoken aloud, and then it had danced in the air around them until Blaine had left. There had been that moment, at Alexander McQueen, and it had danced. Kurt had felt it and surely Blaine had too, but he had done nothing. Nothing for so long that Kurt had had to step back and break it because it had felt like he might die there, in that moment, while Blaine did nothing. He also had done nothing, but... details.

Maybe Blaine could tell that Kurt was interested but he didn't feel the same way? Maybe that was why he had been acting weird all day?

Kurt popped another edamame bean into his mouth and chewed it slowly, wondering how his trip had gone from heartbreak and sorrow to the torture of a crush and not knowing if it was reciprocated. His phone pinged loudly and it broke him out of his spiral.

Adam.

Blaine had taken a picture of Kurt earlier, after lunch, leaning against a classic red phone box, and then told him that he looked really good in it. So, he'd posted it online when he'd found some free wi-fi at one of the many shops that they'd stopped in. The sushi place he was at now also had free wi-fi, so he'd connected to it when he'd arrived to see that Burt had commented on the picture and Rachel had sent him a message saying how happy he looked. He wasn't expecting Adam to like it.

This was the first interaction he'd had with him since he'd emailed the tickets over a month ago.

Kurt had unfollowed him on social media, knowing Adam's words had been final and figuring it was better to cut him out of his life every way he could. He'd just assumed that Adam would unfollow him back.

Kurt stared at the notification, Adam's handle next to a little heart emoji and wondered what exactly it was that he was feeling. He clicked a few times to find out whether Adam still followed him, huffing when he realised that he'd been right: Adam had unfollowed him. So why was he on his page? Checking up on him? He felt angry for a moment, and then it fell away. It didn't matter. Adam didn't matter.

He realised quite spectacularly how much he really meant that, in his heart and in his soul and in his fingertips. Adam didn't matter anymore.

He switched back over to the message from Rachel and tapped out a reply.

_I am happy. I really am._


	6. Chapter 6

Friday

Kurt had taken himself to a quaint and charming café on the high street of Chiswick. He didn’t feel the need to have the full English breakfast at the hotel again and his attempt to get a simple smoothie from the supermarket had failed on Wednesday, so he’d decided to try his luck getting a coffee and a pastry from a place that had caught his eye down the street. 

The lady behind the counter had been friendly and they’d started chatting. The place was small enough that he could maintain their conversation from his seat, but they had settled into a peaceful quiet once another customer had come in. He didn’t have any set plans until the gig in the evening, so he was in no rush. 

He was picking at his croissant when a feeling came over him: he was terrified that his sudden lack of feeling towards his heartbreak and Adam was solely because of Blaine. The thought made him nervous; as much as he was a hopeless romantic, he still held onto his independence fiercely and the idea that a guy was the reason he was magically cured didn’t sit well with him. 

It wasn’t until he was on the London Eye later, staring out at the city from above it, that he realised that Blaine only had a bit to do with it. It was sort of an overcast day so the pod wasn’t very full and he could wander around it with ease. When it got to the top, he let his eyes glide over the buildings stretching out around him and he felt an overwhelming sense of understanding. Kurt had arrived in London with a broken heart and then, within days, the city had allowed him to fix it. It was about London, and himself, and how he had forced himself to do something outside of his comfort zone. He was twisting and turning this trip into something wonderful and worthwhile and exciting. Or letting it be twisted, a relinquish of control that he wasn’t used to but was relishing. He had made a couple of friends in a foreign place, more easily than any of the friends he had made during his time in New York. He was having fun. 

Adam used to make him feel like he couldn’t live without him. London was showing him how much he could. He absolutely could. 

And if Blaine had a small part in all of that, well, so be it. 

He let the feeling of elation he felt at that realisation and his warmth towards this city that he now knew was integral to his moving on process lead him to Buckingham Palace. It was so big and beautiful and Kurt stood for far longer than the tourists around him did, soaking it all in. He took a selfie in front of it, planning on sending it to his dad and Rachel and maybe Elliott once he had a connection to the internet. 

He spent a bit of time wandering around the West End district, wanting to just take in the atmosphere and enjoy the bright billboards and signs before it was time to head back to the hotel to get ready. He put even more effort than usual into his outfit, and pretended with every ounce of acting ability that he had that it was only for him and not because he wanted to try and make a certain bartender's eyes swirl.

* * *

The anger inside of Blaine was manifesting itself in passive-aggressive comments and huffs of air released after John had turned his back to him. 

He had worked the entire day shift, and then John had asked him to cover for a few more hours. Blaine had tried to protest, explaining that he had plans, but John had just continued to uphold his reputation as a dick and made Blaine feel like he had to say yes. Tina and Mike had already expressed that they couldn’t work because of the gig, and Blaine couldn’t exactly explain that he _had_ to go too because there was a boy going who he was desperately crushing on. The casual worker that was supposed to be showing up to help John was running late, or something. He had been vague. 

And he hadn’t left room for a discussion any further than that. 

All of this was why, when Kurt pushed through the pub doors at five, he was still behind the bar and definitely not dressed for a gig. Kurt was. And Blaine didn’t know whether to thank the gods or curse loudly at how seeing him dressed like that made his whole entire chest lift and his ability to form words to stutter. His jeans were black and (like always) tight, but there were rips in the fabric and it took everything Blaine had to not think about running his hand over the tops of his thighs, fingertips touching the skin that was streaked there. Okay. So maybe he was thinking about it. 

“You’re still working?” 

Kurt’s voice cut through and reminded him where he was. He glanced around the pub and tried to reign his wandering thoughts in. He wasn’t even going to let himself consider the thin sweater that was hanging from Kurt’s shoulder. There were zips involved (on the arms and down the sides) and that was a dangerous thought to entertain at this current moment. 

“Kurt, I’m so sorry.” He hoped Kurt could see how much he didn’t want to be working, that this was not his choice, that he’d rather be anywhere with him than here, serving drinks to obnoxious drunks. "I'm not supposed to be, but..."

“Oh,” was all that Kurt said. 

He needed to explain, “My boss is an ass and he’s making me stay on. I’m really gutted.” And then when Kurt still didn’t say anything, “You should still go, though. Tina and Mike will be down soon and I’ll try and catch up with you all as soon as I’m done.” 

Kurt smiled at that, nodding, “Okay, sure. It sucks that you have to stay on working when you’ve already done a full day shift.” 

Blaine let another huff of air out, his millionth one this hour, agreeing. “Yeah.” 

“I saw Buckingham Palace today.” 

Kurt seemed to have lost some of his apprehension about Blaine not being able to come, and Blaine was glad that no one in the pub was demanding his attention right now. If all he was going to get was this one conversation with Kurt today, then he was going to make the most of it. “Oh? And was she home?” 

“We had tea and scones.” 

Blaine mocked hurt, “She’s never invited me in for afternoon tea.” 

Kurt’s eyes sparkled and he murmured something about special treatment, but it got muffled in with the music and the carrying conversations around the room. 

“When do you leave?” It was sort of abrupt, tumbling out of his mouth all at once, but he had to know. He felt a pang of pain that maybe it was tomorrow, and this was the last time he’d ever see him, but then Kurt answered and he felt a little better. 

“Sunday.” 

Today was Friday. “Do you have any free time tomorrow? I’m sure London has a few more things to show you.” 

Kurt smiled, “London can have my whole day, if she wants it.” 

“She does.” 

Blaine could see a customer making their way to the bar out of the corner of his eye and he wanted to beg them to just pour their own damn drink. Couldn’t they see that he was trying to flirt with this man who he was also desperately trying to be just friends with? 

He sighed and nodded his head towards the man, signaling to Kurt that he had to serve him. Kurt just waved him off and found a stool to settle into while he waited for Tina. 

Blaine had just made his way back over to Kurt when Tina and Mike emerged from the back door. Blaine spun around at the sound and clocked the pair of them; Mike was wearing jeans and a nice button-down shirt, while Tina looked stunning in a vibrant green dress and matching eye-shadow. He was about to compliment her when Kurt bet him to it. 

“Tina, you look incredible! I love your dress.” 

Tina rushed around to the other side of the bar and pulled Kurt into a tight hug. Kurt looked a little affronted, perhaps not used to the ease in which Tina shared her physical affection just yet. Although, when the hug didn’t end after numerous moments, Blaine suspected she’d- 

“Has she-” 

“Half a bottle of rosé,” Mike answered the question he knew Blaine was going to ask. 

He chuckled, knowing all too well the heightened affectionate state that half a bottle of wine got Tina into. 

“That means so much coming from you, Kurt.” Tina’s words were so full of sincerity and the wobble in her voice made it seem like maybe she was close to tears. When she finally pulled back, Kurt patted her arm in a friendly way and then sent a shocked look to Blaine, as if to say, _what on earth do I do?_

Blaine just shrugged his shoulders, an amused smile pulling his lips.

“Wait, why are you still behind the bar?” Mike asked, finally catching up to that fact while they stood side-by-side watching Tina draw Kurt into a private and seemingly intense conversation which seemed to just be about her shoes when they managed to catch snippets. 

“John,” was his simple answer and he knew Mike would understand. Mike had been working here for a few years and was well-aware of John’s awfulness. 

“God, I hate that man,” he muttered, not for the first time since Blaine had known him. “Do you think you’ll still make it to the gig? It doesn’t start until nine.” 

“I’m going to try.” 

It was then that Tina turned her attention to Blaine, as if realising that she hadn’t really acknowledged him yet and the whole conversation was repeated when she also saw that he was still behind the bar. Once everyone was caught up on the fact that John was an ass, and he would have to stay at the pub until the casual bartender got here, Tina, Mike and Kurt bid their sad goodbyes and Blaine was left to stew in his anger once again. 

* * *

If he was being honest, Kurt had felt a little weary on the way to the gig. 

It was nothing that Tina or Mike did, exactly. Once they were outside, Kurt had introduced himself to Mike since they hadn’t actually met yet, and he was kind and soft-spoken and Kurt smiled at the tenderness he saw in the man’s eyes as he listened to a babbling Tina. There was clearly something going on between the pair. The uncomfortable feeling had worked its way into his limbs when it dawned on him that he barely knew Tina, Mike even less, and he felt sort of odd and alone without Blaine there too. 

The train ride hadn’t taken too long and Kurt was well and truly accustomed to the hum and the pull of how the Underground worked now. The three of them had chatted, Tina the most animatedly, and at no point had he felt like a third wheel. For that, he was grateful. But he still felt a little odd. 

They’d grabbed a quick bite to eat before heading straight to the bar where Mercedes’ gig was. He was three cocktails deep and suddenly it didn’t matter in the slightest that he barely knew Tina or Mike. Tina was his best friend? It was silly of him to ever assume any different, surely. And Mike! Mike was cute and charming and Kurt could listen to his accent for hours on end without getting bored. 

“What is _in_ these?” 

He didn’t really want to know the recipe; was mostly inquiring about the alcohol to fruity mix ratio, because his head was already fuzzy, so much fuzzier than it had been on his birthday with Blaine and they’d had four drinks that night and oh- 

Blaine. 

“What about Blaine?” 

Kurt snapped his head, a deep flush rising to his cheeks once he realised that he’d said his name out loud rather than the intended musing in his mind. He cleared his throat, “Is he going to make it in time?” It was nearing nine o’clock and Mercedes, who he was still yet to meet, was due to play any minute now. 

“I don’t think so,” Tina murmured, cupping Kurt’s cheek as if he needed that comfort, and Kurt accepted it because he was too afraid to say anything further. If she’d noticed his blush, she didn’t mention it. 

A few minutes later, a man appeared on a small stage at the front of the room and chatted easily with the crowd. His London accent was rough and his jokes made Kurt laugh, but that could have everything to do with the alcohol running through his veins. Eventually, the man announced Mercedes, complete with a sweeping flourish as he hurried off the stage. Kurt clapped along with Tina when Mercedes walked onto the stage and the enthusiastic cheer from Mike made him feel giddy and joyful. He was here with his friends. Even Mercedes was his friend. He would have to tell her that when they finally met. 

The set lasted for about an hour and Kurt was transfixed the whole time. He actually forgot that Blaine wasn’t even here. It didn’t seem to matter too much when Mercedes’ voice was filling the air and his ears and mind and the whole entire city.

“She’s so good.” It was a whisper to no one in particular, but Tina caught it and nodded her agreement. 

Mercedes ended on a really high energy song that had the entire place (which was packed) on their feet and singing along, despite most of them only just hearing it for the first time right then. Even in his hazy state, Kurt knew to take a moment to breathe in the feeling as he stood, arm-in-arm with Tina and Mike. It was a bubbling happiness he hadn’t felt in a very long time. 

* * *

It wasn’t long before someone who obviously worked at the bar appeared and told them that Mercedes had offered for them to come and hang out in the green room backstage. Kurt knew somewhere inside of him that it was just a medium-sized bar in London, not Carnegie Hall, but he still felt very important being led through a door that was clearly marked, _Authorized_ _Access Only_. 

Kurt hung back a little when they reached the green room, allowing Tina to rush forward and embrace her friend and for Mike to give her a hug too. And when that was done, Mercedes turned her attention to his hesitant figure. 

“Tina, who is this gorgeous man you’ve brought with you?” 

“I’m Kurt,” he said happily, as if his name doubled as an explanation. 

Once Tina realised that he was not going to elaborate, “Kurt. He’s Blaine’s...” There was a moment, a beat, and then, “Uh, friend. And now our friend, too.” 

Mercedes and Tina shared a look that Kurt didn’t notice. 

“Oh! Is Blaine here tonight?” she asked Tina, before turning back to Kurt, “That boy was such a cutie the last time I was here.” 

And then she winked at him. Kurt was sure he’d missed something but Mercedes had such a warmth in her eyes and they were sparkling, "He had to work."

"Well, that's a shame. It would have been nice to see him."

And then he realised that he hadn’t even said anything about her performance. “You were incredible, Mercedes. Truly.” 

She laughed at the way the words had fallen out a little sloppy and then she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.” 

A stupidly cute, charming-in-that-Southern-way blonde appeared with drinks for the room and he was introduced to the group as Sam, Mercedes’ new boyfriend. He had managed to get time off work to come out to London with her and they were smitten as they sat cuddled on one of the couches. Kurt had been surprised when Tina had taken the seat next to him rather than with Mike on the other side of the room, but he appreciated the company and the closeness sort of anchored him. 

Even when they stopped drinking, ate some pizza, and he started to sober up, he never lost that feeling of being with friends. And that feeling sort of made him want to cry. He thought about growing up, and high school, and even when he first arrived in New York. This was the first time in his life he had been so wholly and completely accepted by a group of people, even more so than his high school glee club. 

He wished Blaine was here, but he was actually, genuinely doing okay without him tonight. That didn’t stop his head from snapping to Tina when her phone chimed and it was a text from him. 

“Blaine’s asking if it’s worth him coming out. He’s just finished.” 

It was nearing midnight and Kurt couldn’t believe he’d been made to work that long. He wanted to ask, out loud, if that was even legal, but the group were discussing what their plans were. Mercedes had an interview on a morning radio show so she made the decision to call it a night, but promised that she and Sam would come round to the pub tomorrow night to see them all and Blaine. 

Their goodbyes were warm and loving in that specific coming-down-from-drunk way, and that warmth stayed with Kurt the whole trip back. Tina and Mike walked him to his hotel, just like Blaine had done two nights before, and he fell asleep smiling like an idiot. 

* * *

The anger did not subside all night. 

Every half hour or so, Blaine would ask John when the casual was planning on getting here and the answers he would give him were always offhand and unconcerned. 

“He said he’ll be here soon.” 

Soon meant never, apparently, because the minutes kept ticking by and this asshole – Charlie was his name, apparently – was still nowhere to be seen. Blaine accepted his fate once the clock passed nine and he knew he’d missed the gig anyway. By eleven, he was well and truly resigned to the fact that he was here for the night. His regular customers could tell something was off and asked if he was okay, but their kindness and attention to his moods did little to comfort him. 

John even had the audacity to head off before the shift ended, leaving Blaine to close the place by himself on a Friday night. It may be a small pub, but it wasn’t _that_ small. 

He ended up shutting early. Some of the customers had tried to question him about it, but he was pretty sure they could tell from his tone and demeanor he wasn’t in the mood for a discussion about it tonight. He’d flicked Tina a quick text because they still hadn’t returned from the gig and there was a chance they were still going to be out for a bit. 

He was waiting by the light switches when her reply came through. 

_Sorry, boo._ _We’r_ _e heading home njw_

Blaine laughed shortly and it was so bitter that it even surprised himself. He turned most of the lights off, leaving one on so Tina could find her way back in alright. It didn’t take a genius to surmise from her message that she had kept that wine-buzz up. 

He thought about ways to get back at John while he tried to fall asleep. All he could come up with was spilling cordial in the cracks of the bar so there would be an ant problem, but then he realised that he’d be the one having to sort the ant problem out. 

He gave in; he would just have to fall asleep angry. 


	7. Chapter 7

Saturday

It doesn't surprise Kurt in the slightest when he wakes up in the morning and the clock reads ten-thirty already.

He'd fallen asleep last night quickly and giddy, but the lingering fun drunk haze had faded completely while he slept and he'd woken up around five, parched with a pounding headache. He'd found some Advil in his suitcase and gulped them down with what felt like litres and litres of water from the bathroom tap. And then he had crawled back into his over-sized hotel bed and let himself be dragged back under. 

He felt a bit better this time when he stirred. The headache was gone but he still felt stiff and groggy. It wasn't anything a glass of orange juice couldn't fix, but it was a hangover nonetheless.

The grogginess was why, when he was walking out into the lobby a half hour later, it took him numerous seconds to realise that the person calling out his name was Blaine.

"Blaine?"

He hadn't thought about seeing Blaine today yet. He knew he'd be seeing him tonight when Mercedes and Sam went to the pub, and he _wanted_ to see Blaine during the day as well, of course, but only the call of orange juice had been on his mind so far.

Blaine was doing a silly half-jog over to him and Kurt couldn't help but smile a little as he watched the effort. "What are you doing here?" he asked once the man was in front of him. It seemed like he'd been waiting in one of the chairs near reception.

"Oh, well..." Blaine looked nervous for a moment, "You said London could have your whole day."

"Did I?" he asked, a little teasing, but he knew he had. Of course he had.

"You did," he confirmed. "And she thought you'd be in good hands with me."

Kurt cocked his eyebrow, wanting an accompanying witty comment for the gesture but his head felt so heavy. Instead, he let his features contort into discomfort and sighed, "As much as I would love to keep this back-and-forth up, I'm in desperate need of a hangover pick-me-up."

Blaine chuckled, "Coffee?"

"No. Orange juice."

With that, Kurt lead the way out of his hotel into the cafe he'd tried yesterday. The same lady was behind the counter and they chatted again, Kurt a little more subdued this morning but trying his best to hide it. Blaine sent him a thoughtful look as Kurt ordered for the both of them, but he just smiled back. If Blaine had remembered his order, it wasn't weird that he'd remembered Blaine's, too.

He was grateful when the lady behind the counter brought their drinks over and he was grateful to Blaine who simply sat and sipped, understanding somehow that Kurt needed silence as he let the juice wake his body and brain up. Eventually, Blaine picked up on the fact that Kurt was starting to thaw a little bit because he spoke, keeping his voice soft and quiet.

"So, a good night was had by all, I see? Tina was a mess when I saw her this morning."

"Oh dear," Kurt laughed, knowing if he felt like this, Tina must feel ten times worse. She'd had half a bottle of wine on top of what they'd drunk at the bar. "Poor Tina."

"Indeed." Blaine fiddled with his coffee cup, "How was it?"

"It was actually really fun. Tina is the sweetest and Mike is really fun, and Mercedes - god, she can sing."

Blaine nodded his agreement, "Last time she was in town, she stayed with us and we had an impromptu concert in the bar one night after we'd closed. She even asked me to duet with her, it was incredible."

Kurt smiled at the story, wishing he could have been there for it. To hear Blaine and Mercedes sing together? Well, he'd pay good money for it. And he told Blaine that.

Blaine blushed and then Kurt asked about how his ridiculous, probably-illegal double shift had gone. He took the bait and whined for a little bit, but to his credit, he only lingered on the topic for a few minutes before declaring that he was in charge of the plans for the rest of the day.

"It's your last day in London, though, so if there's anything you still want to do, let me know."

"No. I trust you."

He smiled at Blaine, hating how much the words 'last day in London' sucked to hear. He especially hated how much that meant that this could be the last time he ever saw Blaine. They hadn't talked about after this and he didn't know if they even could. He couldn't put his finger on what _this_ was, anyway, and whether it was the kind of thing you continued. He supposed it was some sort of weird friendship that was serving its purpose here, in London, but maybe wouldn't or couldn't serve a purpose anywhere else? Add in the hopeless beginnings of feelings he was developing on the other man, and his inability to gauge whether there was anything being felt in return, and, well, maybe it was best to let it be.

He would leave the ball in the other man's court, he decided. And then he cursed himself for using another damn sports analogy.

* * *

Blaine had woken up earlier than he usually did after a night shift and channeled all of his negative energy from yesterday into planning the perfect last day for Kurt.

He'd popped into the Sainsbury's down the road to grab some supplies and rolled his eyes at himself over the fondness he felt for the place. His sentimentality had always been on the ridiculous side - he was feeling gratitude towards a supermarket chain, for god's sake. But this is where he'd been given a second chance to get to know Kurt, and even if today was the last time he'd see him, ever, that still meant something to him.

After the supermarket, he'd gone back to the pub and put together sandwiches with what he'd just bought, and packed them into a small basket with some fruit and chocolate too. The weather was nice enough, thankfully, so his plan could go ahead. The only thing left to do was find Kurt.

It seemed a little silly that they hadn't exchanged numbers yet or at least figured out some way to contact each other. So far, they'd just been planning things for the next day and arranging a time, so there hadn't really been a need for it. Last night, Kurt had said that London could have his whole day, and Blaine was pretty sure that they were both on the same page about that meaning _Blaine_ could have his whole day, but a time and place hadn't been set. Which is why he spent almost two hours in the hotel lobby, waiting for Kurt to emerge. And he didn't want to wonder if that was an entirely crazy thing to do.

But then Kurt _had_ emerged, and they got a drink together, and Kurt was giving him his trust again, and the two hours waiting didn't seem crazy at all.

"We just need to stop off at the pub on the way there."

Kurt had finished off his orange juice a few minutes ago and Blaine was swirling the dregs of his medium drip in his mug. Kurt was fine with the detour and they set off. 

"Kurt!"

Mike was behind the bar and seemingly very excited to see his buddy from last night. As much as Blaine was still disappointed that he hadn't been able to make it, he was glad that Kurt had seemed to hit it off with everyone. He left Kurt downstairs chatting to Mike, the ease between the two of them clearly showing how much they were getting on. He felt something akin to pride about his friends liking Kurt and he wondered if that was weird and possessive, but he buried the feeling and grabbed the basket and blanket he'd prepared earlier.

"A picnic?" Mike wiggled his eyebrows at Blaine when he snuck back into the pub and Blaine hoped that Kurt didn't catch the desperate scowl he threw back at his friend. A picnic was a nice and normal thing to take your new friend on, right?

"The weather is nice, so why not?" he said. He felt settled today; Kurt hadn't given him any reason to think that he didn't want to spend time with him, so he was going to take him on a picnic. If that was a romantic gesture, so be it. He wasn't going to act on anything, anyway, so what did it matter?

"I like picnics." Kurt's voice was quiet and sure and wonderful and Blaine couldn't help but grin at him before gesturing at the door, and following after him into the sunny London weather.

The walk to Kew Gardens had taken about half an hour, but Kurt hadn't seemed to mind. In fact, he said that the fresh air was doing him some good. Blaine paid for them both to get in and then lead them all the way to the rose garden. Blaine went about setting up their little picnic and Kurt laughed as he held a glass of prosecco out for him.

"I don't know if I can stomach any more alcohol just yet."

Blaine nodded and produced a bottle of water from the basket instead, which Kurt took appreciatively and joined him on the blanket.

They fell into an easy conversation about which James Dean film was their favourite and then discussed Judy Garland at length as they ate, and Blaine couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd ended up in London just for this moment. All of the stress and the pain and the arguments with his father that had led to him booking that flight ten months ago was worth it, somehow, to sit here on this lawn and eat fruit next to Kurt. 

"So, do you still live in Connecticut?"

Kurt's question brought him back to reality and he stole another grape as he shook his head, "Not anymore. I moved to New York for college and that's where I'll be heading back to when my visa is up."

"When is it up?"

"In two months."

"Oh," was all that Kurt said.

Blaine tried to figure out the tone of his voice and the expression on his face, "What?"

"Nothing. It's just - I live in New York too. In Brooklyn."

Oh. Oh, indeed, because that could mean all sorts of things - they could stay in touch and see each other again when he got home and also, maybe, they could acknowledge that there was something happening between them now. Blaine would be back in New York in only a couple of months and surely that was an appropriate amount of time to get over someone. Adam would be in the past, well and truly. It might be okay for him to try and make Kurt's heart his.

Instead, though, he said, "Oh! Do you like living in Brooklyn?"

Because he was an idiot with a crush on a boy he'd just met and apparently acting rational was out of the question for Blaine.

Kurt started to chat about Brooklyn and his favourite deli, cafe, places to get brunch, and he seemed to have relaxed, moving past the whole we-live-in-the-same-damn-city thing with ease. Blaine took a deep breath and let his chatter wash over him. He would just have to try and get Kurt's contact details before he left tomorrow and go from there. 

* * *

Kurt had said it aloud and let the possibility of the fact hang in the air, and then Blaine had breezed straight past it.

He had hoped, somewhere inside of himself, that Blaine would take their revelation and turn it into something else that tasted like hope and a promise of more to come. But he hadn't. He'd asked about living in Brooklyn and Kurt had taken the cue, easing them back into their casual and chatty place from before. He didn't know what it all meant - the avoidance of the topic and the topic itself - but he wasn't going to let it stop him from enjoying his last day in London with his new friend.

They had packed up their picnic and spent the afternoon wandering around the gardens. Kurt was sure they only managed to cover a fraction of the place; it was huge and beautiful and entirely too big for one day's stroll. They took funny pictures with the flowers and the sculptures and even asked a passerby to take one of the two of them.

They'd split up briefly once they got back to Chiswick because Blaine was working the night shift and needed to get ready for it, and Kurt wanted to change for the evening. By the time he headed back to the pub, Tina and Mike were sitting at the bar chatting excitedly to Blaine and a younger girl who must be working with Blaine for the evening. 

Mike was the first one to notice him and he waved Kurt over eagerly. That feeling of happiness bubbled inside of him again at the instant acceptance and friendship that Mike had shown him, _was_ showing him, and the happy feeling grew even more when Blaine smiled at him in a way that felt like it was only for him. It was personal and specific and it made Kurt feel special, and suddenly he was desperate for a glass of wine. 

Which he announced to the group after they'd all said their hellos.

Blaine set about filling a glass for him and he was introduced to Kitty. She was one of their casual workers and she had assessed Kurt with a terrifying look. He'd complimented her outfit, though, and she'd softened after that.

Blaine and Kitty had gotten busy not long after he arrived, but Kurt was more than happy to chat to Tina and Mike. They told him all about how they'd first gotten together - well, Mike told the story, his voice still full of that early-days joy, and Tina watched him recount it with so much happiness in her features that Kurt almost wanted to cry. 

The realistic part of his brain wanted to ask what they were going to do about the fact that Mike lived in London, and Tina lived in... well, he wasn't sure exactly where, but somewhere in the States. He bit his tongue, though, knowing it wasn't any of his business and if they wanted to just enjoy the time they had together, he couldn't blame them.

Before long, Mercedes and Sam arrived and the five of them spent the next few hours chatting and laughing. Kitty let Blaine sneak over to spend his break with the group during a lull, and Kurt relished how easy everything was feeling. He hadn't come to London to make new friends, and now he five of them.

Drinks were constantly being refilled and Kurt was enjoying sitting back and watching the easy banter between Mercedes and Tina. He finds out that they actually went to high school together and were in their school's glee club too, and Kurt laughs because how on earth did they all find each other, here in London? Mike admits he wishes his school had a glee club at all.

Mike and Sam bond over football - both American and soccer - so Kurt gets caught up in the girl's conversation about what Mercedes should wear in the music video she's filming once she gets back to LA.

Before any of them really realise how much time has passed, Blaine has let Kitty go home and is calling out for last call.

"Aw man, I'm not ready to call it a night yet," Sam sags.

Mike looks at Tina, who nods, and then he invites everyone to head upstairs to keep hanging out. Everyone starts to move off when Mercedes notices Kurt moving to sit in a stool by the bar instead. "Kurt, you coming?"

"I think I might stay down here and keep Blaine company."

Tina and Mercedes both give him a pointed look, but they dissolve into cheerful smiles so quickly he could have imagined it.

"We'll be up soon," he rolls his eyes at them.

The two couples make their way upstairs and Blaine smiles at Kurt, grateful. "Thanks, Kurt. You don't have to stay down here if you don't want to. I can just come up and join you all once I've finished."

"Don't be silly," Kurt says, reaching over and stealing a cloth from behind the counter. "Give me some spray, I'll help you."

Blaine looks like he's about to resist but he must see the stubbornness in Kurt's eyes and gingerly hands over a spray bottle. Kurt sets to work wiping down the empty tables and collecting all of the glasses he finds on the way. He sets them on the counter by the dishwasher and continues, dodging around the last few drunken stragglers.

When he's done, Blaine just has to mop behind the bar and in the toilets, so he sets off to do the latter first and Kurt finds his way back to his stool to wait. There's still a few people finishing off their drinks and Kurt is vaguely aware of them, keeping them in his peripheral but mostly focusing on the way he's still swaying a little bit. 

Suddenly, someone is very much in his personal space and they stink of Jack Daniels and sweat. Kurt shifts quickly and turns to face the man, who has his hands up in front of him and a disgustingly sloppy grin on his face, "Sorry, sorry," he mutters.

"Can I help you?" Kurt can't even try and make his voice polite.

The man's eyes glass over and then narrow, and his hands drop into fists, "What did you just say to me?"

"I said can I help you?" Kurt repeats, exasperated and really not in the mood to deal with drunken, unshaven men.

"I don't have to do what you say!"

The man is yelling, loudly, and Kurt starts scanning for an exit. The man is clearly intoxicated and unpredictable. He yells again, even louder this time, and suddenly Blaine is there stepping in between Kurt and the man. He would have been fine, he's sure, but he's still relieved. 

"Sir, I think it's time you head home."

The man sneers at Blaine and tells him that he doesn't have to listen to him, either. Kurt's about to step back into the situation - Blaine is smaller than Kurt is, and something is tugging at him to protect him, but Blaine's next words stop him from moving.

"Get the hell out of my pub. Now. We're closed."

His tone is so final and, if he's being honest, terrifying. There's a threat there in the undertone, and Kurt is pretty sure if he was on the receiving end of that he would obey him no matter how drunk he was.

"Everyone, out! We're closed."

The few people still left around the place get the picture and make their way outside, but the man continues to stand his ground. Is this the kind of shit Blaine has to deal with constantly? Kurt doesn't think he could handle it.

"What about him?" The man gestures wildly at Kurt, "Are you gonna kick this fancy boy out too?"

What Blaine says next comes out like a growl, "He's with me." And then his hand is gripping the man's arm, tightly, probably too tightly, and he steers him outside. He shouts after him something about not coming back, Kurt isn't sure, there's too much adrenaline running through him to hear properly. He does hear a lock clicking, somewhere, and then suddenly Blaine is back in front of him.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry about that asshole."

Kurt smiles weakly, "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for intercepting him."

Blaine doesn't answer, just reaches out and squeezes Kurt's arm. The contact is only quick, but it's comforting nonetheless. Kurt shoos him off to finish up the cleaning and sits back on his stool.

He spends the next ten minutes until Blaine is done trying to ignore the way his heart had felt when Blaine said, 'He's with me.'

* * *

Blaine had almost never been more thankful for Tina and Mike. 

When he and Kurt had finally emerged from downstairs, a glass of vodka and lemonade had been shoved into their hands immediately. It didn't take long for his shoulders to relax, and after his third glass, he was starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. He couldn't stop thinking about the kerfuffle downstairs, though.

He'd dealt with that sort of stuff before - customers often got particularly difficult around closing time, but something had snapped inside of him tonight. When that man had called Kurt a 'fancy boy', practically spat it out, he'd almost punched him. He was pretty sure he wasn't allowed to do that, though, so a strong grip on his arm had had to do.

He glanced over at Kurt. He was chatting to Sam and didn't seem too phased by what had happened, or the infliction in the man's voice, and he supposed that had to do with years and years of dealing with things like that. That thought made his heart ache, for Kurt's pain and for his own, and then Mercedes sat down next to him and demanded his attention.

"Okay, I haven't been able to have a full conversation with you all night. How have you been?"

Blaine smiled at her, happy to have his train of thought interrupted, "Good. Really good. I'm sorry I missed your gig last night."

"That's okay," Mercedes reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing tight. "You know we're going to have to sing again tonight. The fans have requested it."

They talked for a bit longer, getting properly caught up on each other's lives. He eventually got it out of her that 'the fans' was actually just Tina, but the way Kurt's face lit up when Mercedes announced the duet to the room meant there was no way Blaine was going to say no. Mercedes whispered the song she wanted to sing into Blaine's ear and he nodded; he knew it. She hurried to her phone and connected it to the speaker that Tina passed her. 

It wasn't long before the instrumental to Etta's arrangement floated out around them. 

Mike, Tina, Sam and Kurt had gathered on one sofa, creating an audience just for them. Blaine wasn't nearly drunk enough for this, but Mercedes' eyes were swimming and excited so he focused on that and let her take the first verse, of course. She sang it to him, dramatically cupping his cheek and swaying with him on the spot. 

_I want a Sunday kind of love  
A love to last past Saturday night_   
_And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight_   
_And I want a Sunday kind of love_

Blaine picked up the next one, Mercedes harmonizing the whole way through and even though it was impromptu and just a bit of fun, he was reminded of how good they sounded together. Mercedes moved towards Sam to sing the next bit, cupping his cheek instead and Blaine couldn't help but sway by himself and watch the happy couple with a dreamy look upon his face.

_I do my Sunday dreaming, oh yea_   
_And all my Sunday scheming_   
_Every minute, every hour, every day_

She turned back and winked at him, signalling for him to take the next bit. He didn't mean to catch Kurt's eye as he sang it, or maybe he did, but Kurt was smiling and didn't break the gaze either.

_Oh I'm hoping to discover_   
_A certain kind of lover_   
_Who will show me the way_

Mercedes moved back to Blaine and they finished out the rest of the song together. Blaine let her take charge of it, though, knowing how much more powerful her voice was and being completely happy with just mixing his voice in softly.

The music faded out and their audience of four erupted into applause. Mercedes threw her arms out in appreciation of the attention and Blaine acted out an exaggerated bow. A new song started playing through the speaker and suddenly everything was back to normal, and chatter filled the room once again.

Blaine got to know Sam a bit and after a couple more drinks, he'd found Mercedes and told her almost desperately how much he approved. She'd been in a deep conversation with Tina and had rolled her eyes and swatted him away. Every time he looked over, Kurt was wrapped up in some tale that Mike or Sam was telling and he left him to it. He didn't want to seem too clingy, which was definitely something that happened when he was drunk.

"Hey, stranger."

The voice was so smooth and melodic and he closed his eyes for a second before turning around to see Kurt standing in front of him. "Hey, yourself."

He was holding two shots out, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

"What are you trying to poison me with?" But he took the shot glass anyway and brought it to the one still in Kurt's fingers, clinking them together before bringing it to his lips and tipping his head back. It burned all the way down his throat, "Ugh. Tequila."

"I couldn't find any limes." Kurt's face was scrunched up and Blaine laughed, reaching a hand out to smooth the lines on his forehead. If he was sober, maybe he wouldn't have done that, and if Kurt was sober, maybe he would have stepped back or looked at Blaine curiously, but they were both drunk. So it was fine, and maybe Kurt even leaned into the touch a little bit. 

When Blaine dropped his hand, Kurt opened his eyes. "Well, aren't I lucky?"

"Hm?" It came out as a hum and a question.

"I've gotten to see two performances from you in less than a week."

And Blaine didn't know what to say to that, so he just smiled at Kurt and Kurt smiled back and everything felt warm and happy and Blaine was sure he hadn't felt this _good_ in a long, long time.

* * *

Kurt was having the best night.

He felt so safe here with everyone. Mercedes was kind and she'd wink at Kurt as if they had their own little jokes and memories, as if this wasn't only their second time hanging out. Tina made him feel like they'd been friends forever every time she pulled him in for a hug, or held his hand loosely when they talked. Mike was laughing at everything Kurt said, and Sam was getting more and more goofy with every sip he took. And Blaine. Blaine was glowing and singing and laughing and everything, everywhere, felt so much warmer, like maybe they were on fire.

At some point the music changed and Kurt had a suspicion that Mercedes had switched the playlist so that they could wind down. Tina was starting to yawn and lean more and more into Mike's side, and Sam was starting to do the same to Mercedes. They still sat around for another hour, everyone drinking water instead, enjoying the last of their time together. Kurt wondered for a moment whether he'd ever see these people again, and the thought that maybe he wouldn't made him inexplicably sad. He'd only just met this group, really, and still it would hurt for this to be the last time that they were all in a room together.

He'd sobered up a little bit by the time Mercedes and Sam announced that their Uber was here, but not enough that he didn't hug them both dramatically. After they'd waved them off, Tina and Mike bid their own goodbye and retreated to Tina's room. And suddenly it was just Kurt and Blaine in the living room.

"You leave tomorrow." There was a moment, a pause, and then, "I don't want you to go yet."

Kurt checked his phone and laughed softly, "Blaine, it's almost four in the morning."

"Exactly. It's too late to be walking all the way back to your hotel. Just crash here."

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Blaine. He seemed serious, and fuck it, the thought of walking back to his hotel room did seem like a mammoth task right now. "Okay."

Blaine's face broke out into a grin and he grabbed Kurt's hand, pulling him down the hallway and pushing into what Kurt assumed was his bedroom. It was fairly simple; the wallpaper was peeling here and there, and there wasn't a whole lot of Blaine in the decorations, but that must be because this wasn't really his home. Not forever, anyway.

Blaine's hand was still clasped around Kurt's and he didn't let go until he'd pulled them both onto his bed. "Get comfy."

Kurt wanted to laugh, to giggle, even, at the silly way Blaine said that. But instead, he opted for a more practical line of thought, "I don't have anything with me. Pajamas. Toothbrush. Face wash."

Blaine reached out and pressed his index finger to Kurt's lips, shushing him, and he only just managed to catch himself from pulling Blaine's finger into his mouth and sucking. God, he must still be drunk. Or somewhere in-between, to be that close to following through with the thought.

"Just get a couple of hours of sleep here and then you can do that stuff before your flight."

Kurt's impressed with how coherent Blaine is, so he smiles and says, "Okay."

Blaine pulled the covers over the both of them and sunk into the mattress, shimmying to get comfortable. They were both on their sides, facing each other, but Blaine's eyes were closed. Kurt's aware, in some part of his brain, that he'd tangled his legs with Blaine's, but Blaine didn't say anything, do anything, and he supposed that maybe it was okay, then. 

They fall asleep quickly, their breaths turning heavy and deep together, with their limbs intertwined.

* * *

Sunday

Blaine had forced himself not to react.

Kurt was drunk or had been drunk, at least, and he was still a little drunk himself. The last thing they needed was a drunken hook up literally hours before Kurt flew back to New York. And maybe that's not what Kurt was even meaning by the gesture. 

So, he'd kept his eyelids closed, the same content smile on his face, and waited for sleep to come. 

He was startled awake by a swearing Kurt the next morning. Or, later that morning. There were no longer legs tangled with his own and the bed was empty on the other side. He felt so incredibly groggy, but he managed to open his eyes enough to see a flapping Kurt gathering his phone and wallet off the floor.

"What's going on?" he croaked out.

Kurt's eyes landed on Blaine, wild and wide, "I have to go. My flight is in, like, four hours, and I don't have any of my stuff packed."

Blaine managed to feel guilty about that despite his murky state - he had taken up Kurt's entire yesterday, and he was pretty sure he was the one to convince Kurt to just stay here after everyone else had left. "Sorry."

"No, it's not-" Kurt shook his head, "I just- I have to go, that's all."

Oh.

This was it. Blaine scrubbed at his face, begging his brain to catch up and figure out a way to handle this somehow. Kurt was about to leave. Like, _leave_ -leave. The getting on a plane kind of leaving. He nodded at Kurt, registering the panic in his outline and trying to be quick as he got out of bed. 

They descended the stairs in silence and Blaine pushed the front door open quickly. Kurt walked past him a few steps, out onto the street and then stopped, turning back. He looked like he had a million things to say, and Blaine probably did too, if only he could get his brain to function properly.

Kurt seemed to settle on, "Thank you," and then moved forward.

Blaine realised he was about to hug him so he shifted his body and wound his arms around Kurt's waist when he could. Maybe he was still half-asleep, but he could feel Kurt's arms around his shoulders and his hands pressing into his back as if they were iron-hot. He turned his head a little, his nose dipping into the curve of Kurt's neck, and let it rest there until Kurt pulled back.

"I really need to go, I'm sorry."

Blaine nodded, "It's okay. Have a safe flight."

Kurt chewed his lip, still not really moving despite the truth in his words. "Okay, so then. Bye, Blaine."

"Bye, Kurt."

And then Kurt was walking away. He let the man go.


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine spent three days cursing himself before the postcard arrived.

He hadn't asked for his number. An email. A full name. Nothing. He'd just completely forgotten, almost as if he felt like he knew Kurt so well that the idea that he _didn't_ have that information would be crazy. And then his leaving had been such a hurried hurricane that there had barely been a second to say goodbye, let alone remember to ask how to contact him. He'd tried his best with Google but searching 'Kurt from Ohio' didn't get him very far at all. He'd begged Tina to try and help him, but she'd just cupped his face with her palm and said, sadly, "Oh, Blainey."

It was a lost cause.

Until it wasn't. Blaine had been out for a walk, desperate for some fresh air after a messy and late night shift the night before. And to get his mind off the constant misery he was feeling about losing Kurt. 

When he pushed back into the pub, though, Tina was smiling at him coyly from behind the bar. 

"What is it?" That look was making him nervous.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed, wistfully, "Just a letter from your loverrrr." She drew out the 'r' sound for affect, her smile turning into a delicious one.

"What? Kurt?" Blaine plucked the postcard out of her hand the second she waved it in front of him. He looked down at the cartoon red phone box on the front. It had a little face on it, the phone box personified, with a little speech bubble above it which read, _London calling!_ He chuckled and then set Tina with a hard stare, "Did you read it?"

"I only peeked to see who it was from, I promise."

He wasn't sure how much he believed her, but he realised he didn't actually care. Kurt had sent him a postcard - had gone out of his way to make sure this got to him despite the rush and the stress before his flight. Even if Tina had read it, it couldn't wipe the grin off his face.

"He's not my lover." By the way.

Tina just rolled her eyes and then shoved him towards the back door as one of their regulars wandered in, notorious for flirting with Blaine. If he didn't get out of there right now, he'd be stuck serving her on his day off. He flashed Tina a thankful smile before ducking upstairs and out of sight, the postcard sliding between his hands.

It wasn't until he was on his bed, sitting, that he finally flipped it over. The handwriting was neat despite the hurried nature of the curves and loops.

_Blaine,_

_I hope it's okay that I'm sending this. I had hoped for a much more heartfelt goodbye than my flustered departure ended up being. I'm feeling rather pleased with myself that I remembered the name of your pub - although 'The Swan and Bell' is much too wonderful and quaint and British to forget that easily - since we never exchanged details. I wanted to thank you for being such a friendly face this past week, I needed it more than I knew._

_Yours,_   
_Kurt_

Blaine realised that he hadn't been breathing the entire time he was taking in Kurt's words, and the held breath came out all at once when his eyes finally finished. He rubbed his thumb over the ink where it said, _Yours, Kurt_ , as if that might make it really mean something more than just a sign-off.

Underneath Blaine's own address, in much smaller writing, was an address in Brooklyn, New York.

Blaine grabbed his wallet and ran out of the pub, using the back door to avoid any familiar customers, and hurried into the first shop he could find that sold postcards.

* * *

Kurt loved the feeling of being back in New York again and was relishing the long days at the office because it meant he had less time to worry about whether or not a certain postcard had made it to where it was supposed to go. Maybe he had mixed up the Swan and the Bell, or maybe the lady behind the desk at Heathrow who'd looked up the pub's address for him had gotten it wrong. Maybe she hadn't posted it for him like she'd promised she would. Maybe he'd received the postcard and didn't want to reply; didn't feel the need to.

Maybe Kurt was the only one who'd left with unspoken feelings inside of his chest.

He was giving himself yet another tough pep talk about how crazy it was that he was this wound up about a guy he'd barely spent a week with when he checked his mail box and found a postcard sitting atop a stack of bills. The picture on the front of it was a watercolour painting of the London Eye and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face as he hurried upstairs to read it. 

He was pacing back and forth in his tiny kitchen, tapping the card onto his left hand with his right, and he whispered, "Okay. Okay." And then he read it.

_Kurt,_

_I cannot tell you how happy I am that you sent me that postcard. At the risk of sounding like a fool, I was devastated when I realised I had no way to contact you. I may have been sulking, and there's only so much moody Blaine that Tina can deal with. I'm also sorry that our goodbye was such a rush, but I hope your flight home went well. Is it okay if I ask for your last name? Strictly for proper postcard-addressing purposes, and nothing else..._

_Blaine x_

Kurt let the warm glow that was in his chest spread up into his cheeks at Blaine's words. Maybe it hadn't all been in his head after all. He slipped the postcard onto his fridge, trapping it with a magnet that Carole had given him after one of her and his dad's trips. He let his fingers linger on it, now, and then every time he wandered past it after that.

* * *

Blaine and Tina were working together when the second postcard arrived. 

There was a football game happening in the next town over and they always got super busy with fans dressed in both colours before and after the match. Tina let Blaine nip into the cellar to read it, quickly, before the rush started. 

He flipped the card over, only briefly letting his eyes take in the black and white picture of Times Square on the front. He was desperate to see what Kurt had said.

_Blaine,_

_I'm so glad that you sent one back. No fools here. The flight was good, and New York has welcomed me back with open arms. I am finding myself missing London, though I can't possibly imagine why. Hm. I just realised that a teasing tone does not always carry over written words - if I had said it aloud, I would have been implying that the reason why is you._

_Yes, it is okay to ask. I must say, though, I don't think you should look me up on Facebook (you're not that sneaky). It's much more romantic this way._

_Kurt Hummel_

"Kurt Hummel," he murmured, to himself and to the cellar, liking the way it sounded on his tongue. "Kurt Hummel."

The cellar door flew open and Tina's panicked voice carried down to him, yelling his name. He ran up the stairs, putting the postcard on a shelf carefully, to retrieve later, and started helping Tina with the giant group of football fans that had appeared. 

* * *

Kurt couldn't even wait until he was inside his apartment - he read the back of the postcard on the stairwell, hugging himself into the corner so that it was just him and Blaine's neat scrawl.

_Kurt Hummel, _

_I like it. It suits you. And as you wish, I will stay away from Facebook. Please know that this is not an easy task as I would love to see the high school glee pictures that are bound to be on your page. I can't believe you would deny me that, but I will refrain, for you._

_Also - romantic? Oh. Does this mean that the intertwined legs weren't simply an act of drunken closeness, and perhaps a move by one Kurt Hummel? If it was the former, alas, I shall hope for different intentions next time, but if it was the latter; I am sorry for being oblivious. I didn't want to assume._

_Always,_   
_Blaine_

Kurt wishes he _did_ wait until he was inside his apartment, because the blush that starts in his neck and rises all the way to the tips of his ears burns, and as for the insinuation that he was trying to start something - even if he wishes he had been, he definitely wasn't. Without alcohol, he'd never had been that bold. _I shall hope for different intentions next time._ The sentence sits in his chest as he chews his bottom lip. There's no other way to interpret that.

He flips the postcard over and lets his finger trace the outline of Buckingham Palace.

* * *

There's a soft knock on Blaine's door and he knows it must be Mike. Tina tends to be louder, both in general and with her knocking.

"Come in."

He glances over a little guiltily at the mostly-empty packet of Jaffa Cakes on his bed, suddenly conscious of it once he's already given Mike the go-ahead to come in. Mike just pops his head in, though, quickly, and leaves a postcard on his dresser by the door. 

"Thanks, Mike," he says to his retreating figure, and he brings the card over to his bed, getting back under the covers. (He had a hard shift last night, okay).

_Blaine,_

_I promise you; you do not want to see those glee photos. I wasn't always allowed to have full control over the outfits and costumes (something to do with the budget, or so I was told), so I'm sure you can imagine, they were often less than flattering._

_As for the matter of legs, ours, and whether or not they were intertwined with intent - I wholeheartedly blame the alcohol. I'm surprised you managed to get me into your bed at all. I am a hopeless romantic, you see, and I need to be wooed._

_Kurt xx_

Blaine chuckled. The picture on the front this time was an abstract painting of a yellow cab, and Blaine felt a pang of homesickness for the first time since he'd arrived in London. He reached out for the postcard he'd already purchased in anticipation of Kurt's, and wrote his reply. It was a simple one.

* * *

_Kurt,_

_Wonderful news - I am an excellent wooer._

_Blaine_

* * *

Blaine was pretty sure this was his favourite one yet. The photo on the front was stunning; the city skyline at dusk, all golden and warm and _home._ And the words, well -

_Blaine,_

_Come back to New York soon. It is just as dirty and magical as London is, and I am here._

_Yours,_   
_Kurt_

He'd already started looking at flights.

* * *

Maybe it was crazy that it had just been one week, two months ago, and then four postcards.

_Kurt,_

_Can I see you? When I get back?_

_Blaine_

Maybe, though, it wasn't crazy. Maybe it wasn't.

* * *

_Blaine,_

_Yes. Please._

_Kurt_


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt was still in bed when the buzzer for his apartment went off. 

He'd been mostly awake for the better part of an hour now so it didn't startle him, but the unexpected noise did cause him to grumble a little bit. He wasn't quite ready to get out from under the covers just yet. Besides, who on earth would be coming over this early on a Sunday? The friends he had in the city weren't the type to turn up unannounced, and he was sure that his dad would have told him if he was coming to visit all the way from Ohio. Actually, it could be Rachel. This was the kind of thing she'd do in the middle of a crazed self-confidence spiral.

"Hello?"

"Delivery for Kurt Hummel." The voice coming through the box on his wall was crackly and definitely not Rachel. Kurt scrunched his eyes shut, desperately searching his brain for a recent memory of online shopping. He came up blank, but he had been prone to late night dazed and delirious purchasing before, so he buzzed the voice in.

When he heard the light tap on his front door, he suddenly realised he was still in his pajamas and his hair was a tussled mess upon his head - but there was no time to fix that. He opened the door and was greeted by a man holding a large bouquet of roses. They were red and yellow, falling somewhere between love and friendship, and he couldn't stop the low gasp that escaped his lips.

He tipped the man behind the flowers and then took them out of his hands, "Thank you."

He kicked the door shut with his foot and reveled in the smile that spread across his face. He'd never been sent flowers like this. Sure, Adam had given him flowers before, but they were usually from the supermarket and always appeared after an argument. He noticed that there was a postcard sticking out through the top of the roses; the picture on the front was a beautiful sketch of the Chrysler building. Kurt's breath hitched.

Blaine was back in New York.

He carefully placed the flowers on the bench top and slipped the card out of the holder it was in, and then flipped it over. 

_Olio e Piu._  
 _Seven o'clock._  
 _Tonight_.

There was no name as a sign-off, and no acknowledgement of Kurt's, either. The words were _his_ , though, because it was that same tilt. Each line was short, sharp, and punctuated by a full stop - final, confident. _Presumptuous,_ he thought, his brain registering the fact that he had no way to contact Blaine if he'd already had plans.

If he was being honest, though, he would have cancelled them if he did. He put the roses in a vase with some water and the postcard found its spot on the fridge next to the other four. It was all awfully mysterious and romantic.

The man _did_ say he was an excellent wooer. 

* * *

For all of the nerves and uncertainty that Blaine had felt when they were in London, there was nothing but confidence in his undercurrent tonight.

Kurt liked romance. Kurt wanted to be wooed. Kurt had wanted him to come home to New York and Kurt wanted to see him. None of these things were guesses; he had the ink to prove it.

That didn't stop his breath from catching when he finally saw him again. It had been two months and as much as he had the memories and the postcards to remind him, sometimes Blaine wondered if he'd imagined Kurt up.

"Blaine."

Kurt stopped just in front of him and said his name, almost breathless, as if it were a greeting.

"Kurt. Hi."

They stared at each other for a moment, both completely oblivious to the people hurrying past them on the sidewalk, small smiles playing on both of their lips. Blaine was the one to break the moment, bridging the gap between them and wrapping his arms around Kurt. It was only a brief hug, but the contact started a drumming in Blaine's limbs.

He settled into a charming grin and made a rolling flourish towards the restaurant door, "Shall we?"

Kurt rolled his eyes at the theatrics (and Blaine didn't miss the affection in the gesture) and led the way through the front door. Blaine followed after him and his hand found its way to the small of Kurt's back as he leaned forward towards the host. 

"Hi. Booking for Blaine?"

The man opposite them peered down at a notebook with scribbled times and names all over it, and Kurt tilted his head down slightly with a new small smile playing on his lips. He didn't say anything, but Blaine was pretty sure he was acknowledging the hand that Blaine still hadn't dropped from his back.

They were led to their table and once they had placed their order with the waitress, they settled into an easy conversation about the flowers he had sent and how his flight home had been. Once their food arrived, Blaine asked Kurt how he'd been over the past couple of months. 

"I've been good, actually. Really good. I feel like I went to London with this giant, dark cloud over me and I came back with nothing but clear skies. Work's been busy, though."

Blaine hummed, "You never actually told me where you work?"

He'd asked the question out of interest, but as soon as it was hanging in the air, it felt like a comment on their relationship in general so far; giving half-truths or small bits of information here and there, both desperate to dig deeper but holding back as some sort of self-preservation.

Kurt's fork was hovering above his plate and he put it back down purposefully, "I guess we sort of held back in London, huh?"

Blaine laughed, "Yeah, I guess we did."

"But we don't have to anymore."

He didn't ask it as a question, but the way that Kurt was looking at him with cautious hope in his eyes - well, there was definitely a question to it. Blaine knew he still had to hold back a little bit, just to make sure he wasn't forcing Kurt into anything before he was fully ready to move on from Adam. He still needed to participate in a little bit of self-preservation. But in terms of getting to know each other? Properly? Well -

"No, we don't have to anymore," and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face when the caution drained out of Kurt's eyes.

"Vogue."

"Sorry?" Blaine asked. Somewhere in the conversation he had gotten lost, apparently.

"I work at Vogue. Well, Vogue.com."

"Kurt, what- oh my god. That's incredible." Blaine was impressed. He knew he worked for a fashion magazine, but _that_ fashion magazine? "What do you do there?"

Kurt waved his hand as if to dismiss what he was about to say and picked up his fork again, "Oh, nothing fancy. I'm the executive assistant to Isabelle Wright. I'm pretty sure she made the role up for me but she lets me help out with all sorts of things." He finally took a bite of his meal.

Blaine shook his head in awe and shock, "It sounds amazing."

"And what about you? Is bar tending what you want to do long-term?"

Blaine thought back to pouring beer and making polite conversation with tipsy women blatantly hitting on him and shivered, "No, definitely not. I mean, it was fun while I was in London but no, I... uh... well, I studied musical theatre at NYADA."

"Oh!" Kurt sounded surprised, and the way he looked down at his food made Blaine wonder if there was something else he wanted to say. He seemed to compose himself and looked up, "I actually applied for NYADA. I didn't get in."

"Oh, Kurt, I'm so sorry."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm actually kind of glad I didn't. I ended up getting my internship at Vogue instead and that led to my job now."

"Life has a funny way of sorting itself out sometimes."

Kurt smiled, "It does indeed."

And maybe he was also thinking about how life had sorted itself out for the two of them to be here, together, opening themselves up to each other a little bit more. 

* * *

The rest of the meal had gone well; Kurt had told him more about his job, and Blaine had told Kurt about how he was crashing at his friend's place until his sub-letter moved out. It was easy and carefree and at one point, after Kurt had admitted how much he'd looked forward to Blaine's postcards, Blaine had reached out and held Kurt's hand on the table. They'd sat like that for a moment, both looking down at where they connected and smiling. 

Neither of them were in the mood for any of the dessert on the menu and Kurt immediately kicked up a fuss when the bill arrived. 

"Blaine, please. You have to let me pay for some of it."

When simply denying him didn't work, Blaine had set him with a serious but hopefully affectionate look and said, "Kurt, _I_ asked _you_ out. I'm paying."

Kurt had conceded at that, but not before he huffed an indignant, "I'd argue that you _told_ , rather than asked."

Blaine smiled apologetically and slipped his card onto the bill. Kurt smiled back at him in a way that Blaine hoped meant he wasn't actually put out about the way he'd organised tonight.

* * *

When they pushed out onto the sidewalk, they were met with the heat of the early-August evening. Kurt instantly missed the air-con from the restaurant, and he also had no idea if their night was over yet. He didn't want it to be.

Blaine cocked his head to the side and set Kurt with a grin far more mischievous than necessary for what he suggested, "Do you want to get ice cream?"

Kurt chuckled, "Lead the way."

And he did. His hand reached out for Kurt's like it had so many times in London, but this time he actually grabbed it and didn't let go. Kurt thought about resisting - it was very hot and his palm was definitely sweaty - but the loveliness of walking the streets of New York City hand-in-hand with Blaine far outweighed that concern.

Blaine stopped them outside of a place that looked like a mixture between an open-late cafe and an ice cream shop, and then pulled them inside. Blaine ordered a scoop of cookie dough, and Kurt opted for the French vanilla. They found their way over to a small table with mix-matched seats and smiled at each other over their tubs. Something had been on Kurt's mind since the restaurant, though.

"Can I ask you something?"

Blaine nodded, "Of course."

"I'm just wondering... if you studied musical theatre at NYADA, what made you want to move to England and work in a pub for a year?"

Blaine sighed and Kurt worried that he'd overstepped, but when Blaine looked up there was a sweet openness on his face. "No holding back, right?"

"Right," Kurt affirmed. "Unless you want to hold back."

"I don't want to."

Kurt scooped a spoonful of his ice cream into his mouth and waited. Blaine seemed to need a second to collect his thoughts.

"You know how I mentioned back when we were in London that my dad wasn't so great?" At Kurt's nod, he continued, "Well, we've always had a sort of... tense relationship. It started when I was a kid; he could never wrap his head around the fact that I loved going to see live theatre with my mom just as much as I loved going to see football games with him. He would always make comments about how it wasn't something a young boy should care about, or whatever. It made me not want to... well, I never came out to him."

"But your mom knew?" he surmised. 

"Yeah," Blaine confirmed. "I told her when I was fourteen. She hugged me and told me that my love was just as beautiful as everyone else's. But we both sort of agreed to hold off telling my father until I really needed to. Anyway - sorry, I promise this links up to why I went to London."

"It's okay, I'm listening," Kurt assured him.

"I've had a couple of boyfriends over the years but no one that I wanted to take home and do the whole meet-the-parents thing with, so it just never really came up," he shrugged. "We got into a huge argument when I got accepted into NYADA. He said it wasn't worth my time and wanted me to go into finance like him. I almost didn't go, but we managed to come to an agreement that I could go so long as I booked my first proper gig within a year after graduation."

Kurt frowned; he knew for a fact how hard it was to break into the business. So much of it was talent - which he knew Blaine had - but it was also luck and being in the right place at the right time and needing everything to align just right. You couldn't just snap your fingers and be on Broadway. Hell, you couldn't even snap your fingers and be on off-Broadway.

"My brother's an actor in LA. Well, he's trying to be. I think my dad couldn't stand the thought of _two_ sons trying to make it in the industry. He came to visit me exactly one year after graduation. I was working in a diner near my apartment and going to auditions whenever I could get them, but nothing had happened for me yet. We got into another argument, our biggest one yet. He called me a failure and told me my time messing around in the city was over. I begged him for one more year. I don't- I don't really know what happened next but he was yelling at me about being a disappointment and I just remember thinking that he might as well have another reason to add to his list."

"You told him you're gay?"

Blaine laughed but there was no humour in it, "Yeah. He didn't say anything... harmful. He didn't really say anything at all. Just sort of stared at me like I'd ruined his whole life. I figured it wouldn't hurt to put a bit of distance between us for a while, and I figured three thousand miles would do it."

Kurt wanted to wrap Blaine up in his arms and hold him until the pain in his voice disappeared. He couldn't really do that right now, so he settled on, "I'm so sorry, Blaine. That's awful."

But then Blaine smiled at him and it was genuine, "It's okay, really. When I got to London, I found the job at the pub and met Tina and Mike. I stopped singing and playing as much, but it was almost nice to have a break. I'd spent so long only focusing on performing and auditioning that it was good to take a step back and enjoy other things." He paused and then, "And London brought me you."

Kurt smiled despite the heavy conversation they were having, "I'm very glad it did."

"Me too."

"Have you spoken to him since then?"

Blaine shook his head, "I saw my mom the day after I got back, but... I don't know what to say to him. I'm still in the exact same place I was in a year ago. I haven't booked anything."

"You haven't been back for long," Kurt tried to reason. 

"I suppose," but the smile Blaine sent him wasn't very hopeful.

Blaine moved the conversation on to something lighter and Kurt let him, sensing that he was finished with the 'not holding back' for the time being. Instead, they talked about TV shows and whether or not Kurt had met Anna Wintour (he hadn't) and Blaine filled Kurt in on how Tina was doing (moving back to Chicago in two weeks with plans to attempt long-distance with Mike). If he closed his eyes, Kurt could imagine they were back in London, the thrill of meeting a cute boy still present. 

Except now, he knew the cute boy liked him back.

* * *

Kurt had tried to protest.

He didn't know where exactly Blaine was staying, but he was pretty sure it wasn't Bushwick. And yet here he was, walking beside him as they made their way down the two blocks it took to get from the subway station to his building. Blaine was chatting happily - had been the whole train ride here - not seeming to notice that Kurt had a million thoughts whirling around in his mind. Was he supposed to invite him up? Did he even want to invite him up yet? But why else would Blaine have trekked all the way here if that wasn't where this was heading?

"This is me." He pointed at his building and Blaine came to a stop at the gesture.

The questions were just about to start whirling again, but Blaine inadvertently cut them off.

"I had a really nice time, Kurt. It was... well, I'm just so glad I got to see you again."

"Me too."

There was only the smallest beat and then Blaine took one step forward, smooth and on purpose, and placed a light kiss onto his cheek. It was so quick and chaste that Kurt could have imagined it, but the feeling fluttered there just enough for him to know it had actually happened. Also, Blaine's hand had clutched at his shoulder during the movement and that feeling was heavy and definitely real.

"Goodnight, Kurt." Blaine's hand moved off his shoulder, lingering on his bicep for a moment before falling away completely. 

"Night," he was sort of breathless but there was an intensity in Blaine's eyes that was taking his breath away, so go figure. 

He watched the man walk away, realising that he'd 'trekked all the way here' just so he could make sure Kurt got home safe, and so that he could kiss his cheek goodnight. Kurt stood with that wonderment for a while, smiling like an idiot. Blaine glanced at him with a goofy smile on his face before he turned the corner, now completely out of sight. Kurt just continued to stand there, in no rush to get inside, content to just revel in the feeling of the last few hours. And then - shit. Shit! They still hadn't exchanged numbers or anything.

What on earth was wrong with them?


	10. Chapter 10

A postcard arrived the next day. 

He found it in his letterbox on his way home from work and had to assume that Blaine had been here to post it himself. Even if they were in the same city now, surely the post wasn't that fast?

_Kurt,_

_I wanted to let you know that I'll be at The Wooly Daily near Conde Nast on Wednesday around lunch time. Just in case that information might be interesting to you._

_(I'll let you pay for the coffee)_

_Blaine x_

On Wednesday, Kurt pretended like he wasn't counting down the seconds until his lunch break and then made his way to the café Blaine had mentioned as soon as the clock hit half twelve. He knew Blaine had framed it this way to give him the option, to not be as presumptuous as last time. But the truth was, he'd find a way to be wherever Blaine's postcards told him to be.

Blaine kept his word and did let Kurt pay. The place was cozy and the coffee was warming in the perfect way and Kurt was trying to reign his heart in from getting too accustomed to lunch breaks like this. This was early days.

"What?" Kurt asked, noticing Blaine's deep and happy stare, "Is there something on my face?"

Blaine hummed, "No. I was just thinking about how cute you look in New York City. Don't get me wrong, you were cute in London, too - _unbearably_ cute, even. But I don't know; seeing you here, in this city, it feels like every part of you makes sense now."

Kurt blushed and mumbled something about Blaine being cute himself and then they'd laughed it off and talked about Blaine's audition earlier in the day that he didn't think went all that well. Then Blaine had walked him back to the front doors of the One World Observatory, lingering a little bit and giving Kurt a chance to ask what he desperately wanted to.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you ever going to ask for my number?"

A new smile - was it sly, perhaps? - spread over Blaine's face. "Someone once told me it's more romantic this way."

And then he reached out and squeezed Kurt's hand, somehow managing to convey something tender and more with just that touch. After one last smile, he was gone. 

And Kurt still had no way to contact him. 

* * *

It took a little longer for the next postcard to arrive. 

Kurt wasn't sure if Blaine was trying to make up for the over-eagerness of the timing of the last one, but it was almost an entire week before he saw it sitting on top of his bills. It was an invitation to an art exhibition opening and once they were standing in the gallery, Blaine had explained that he'd been moving back into his apartment and that his parents had been in town all week.

"How was seeing your dad?" Kurt had asked.

"It was good, actually. He apologised. Things aren't perfect yet, but it's a start."

And then Blaine had smiled at Kurt, so hopeful and warm, and Kurt had slipped his hand into Blaine's. They didn't let go until they'd circled the whole space and seen every piece hanging on the walls. 

Just like after their first date, Blaine had walked with Kurt all the way to his building, kissed his cheek, barely, just enough for Kurt to know it was real, and disappeared into the night with a grin. As he watched the empty space where Blaine had just been, he came to a conclusion; he was happy to play this game with Blaine. It was kind of nice, actually, to not be able to be in constant contact with him. There was a build-up and a suspense in it that was sort of delicious. 

And so it went on; Blaine would send him postcards with dates and times and little bits of information scribbled on them, a couple of days in between them, sometimes longer, and Kurt would live his life like normal and also wait. The not knowing when he'd next see that rectangle in his postbox that meant _Blaine_ kept him on his toes and electric, and their dates did nothing to dispel his growing feelings. Blaine was charming and a little dorky sometimes, and there was a warmth to him that he'd felt in London, and was feeling more and more every second he spent in his presence. 

The postcard organising their tenth date (yes, Kurt was keeping count) had a picture of the Statue of Liberty on the front and the words on the back asked him to meet him at the Staten Island ferry terminal on Friday, after work, if he could. Kurt had actually planned to catch up with Rachel after her show on that night but he managed to push that to Saturday. He thought maybe he should feel bad about that, especially because he'd lied about the reason why he had to rain-check, but the excitement about seeing Blaine again outweighed his guilt. 

And when he saw Blaine leaning against the ferry building wall in chinos, a tight black polo and the bow-tie Kurt had bought for him in Harrods, looking adorable and dapper and holding a small bunch of wildflowers, Kurt knew bailing on Rachel was worth it. 

Blaine kissed Kurt's cheek hello, held the wildflowers out for Kurt to take, which he did, and then they boarded the ferry as it pulled into the dock. They stood out on one of the side decks, feeling the wind whip their faces and letting the line of the city and the Statue fill the space enough that they didn't need to talk. 

When they made it to Staten Island, Kurt looked at Blaine and asked, "Where to?"

Blaine's hand lifted to the back of his own neck and he chuckled, "To be honest, I didn't get that far. I just wanted to see the city skyline like this with you."

"Well, it's a good thing the ferry is free," Kurt said, dragging Blaine back on to the ferry before it made its return trip. They did it again, again, there and back, finding a different spot on the boat to view the city from each time. They were giggling and pointing things out to each other and (once the sun had started setting) letting the lights of the city sparkle in their eyes. When they finally decided that this would be their last trip, Kurt let his head rest on Blaine's shoulder and Blaine shifted so that his arm was around Kurt's waist, holding and comforting and there.

They grabbed a slice of pizza once they were back on land and ate it while they wandered around near the water, both of them starting to shiver a little bit as the temperature dropped and the wind and the waves were mixing to a chill. Blaine bumped into him as they walked back to Kurt's place, like always, and Blaine had been so animated tonight that Kurt let himself hope that maybe tonight's ending was going to be different.

And then it wasn't. Just a breathless expression of how much fun he'd had, a squeeze of the hand, a kind grin as a goodbye, and Kurt couldn't help it -

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

Kurt took a breath, quickly, to help him say this, "Please don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying spending time with you - so much. I just... I think I need... Can we - can we..."

And he wanted to say; can we take another step? But the words get stuck in his throat and Blaine was searching his face, and Kurt almost backtracks and tells him that this is fine, he's fine just being this for however long Blaine needs them to be, even though what they are is sort of nothing. New friends who go out on dates and hold hands every now and then, but nothing more. He would make that be enough, if it kept Blaine and his postcards in his life.

But then Blaine stopped searching, settled, reached into his pocket and pulled out the receipt from their pizza earlier and a pen from the pocket of his jacket. He scribbled something onto it and held it out for Kurt, "Here."

Kurt took it, read the address. "You've been walking me home all the way to Brooklyn when you live on the Upper West Side?"

Blaine ducked his head, chuckled, blushed, "All part of the wooing."

"Blaine..." Kurt started to say, because it wasn't just that. It had to be more than just that, right? It had to be a kindness so deeply rooted inside of him, and maybe, hopefully, a desire to use that kindness for Kurt more than most. 

"I'll wait for a postcard," Blaine said, his hands wrapping around Kurt's still clutching the scribbled receipt as a final goodbye gesture, and then he was walking away like he'd done the last nine times. And again, Kurt watched him leave, wished he'd kissed him, wondered what Blaine was waiting for.

Wondered what he was waiting for, too.

* * *

Kurt was so busy that he'd worked all through lunch. That, coupled with the entirely frustrating and unnecessary meeting he'd been forced to attend this morning had put him in an unfortunate mood. And the last thing he needed was his boss breezing through his office door and plonking herself down in one of the chairs opposite his desk. And yet, there she was; breezing and plonking.

Kurt didn't even flinch at the intrusion; Isabelle had made a habit of waltzing in, uninvited, and striking up a conversation about whatever was on her mind, Kurt's workload be damned. It barely even phased him anymore.

"What's wrong?"

"Huh?" Kurt managed to ask, his eyes still glued to his screen. He was trying to attach a reference photo to a very important and time-sensitive email and he couldn't seem to find the file. Then his brain registered that he had actually heard Isabelle's question, "Oh... nothing. I just can't find..."

"Not about that, silly," she cut him off. "In general?"

That caught his attention. He shifted his eyes from glaring at his computer to glaring at her, his answer only one raised eyebrow.

"You've been so happy these past few months and today you seem like you're back to that moody pre-London Kurt."

Kurt pursed his lips and wondered not for the first time why his boss kept such close tabs on his moods and personal life. He'd assumed a long time ago that it was just because she cared about him, and maybe a little bit of it was her living vicariously though him. Not that his life was exciting enough to warrant living vicariously through it. 

"Are you going to let this go? Shall I bother with a half-baked excuse or just go for it?" There really was no point beating around the bush.

"Go for it," she confirmed.

Kurt sighed, "I met a guy in London."

"What?!" she almost squealed and Kurt had to hurry to shush her. His office door was open and this wasn't exactly something he wanted to chat to Vogue's entire staff about. 

"Yes," he hissed.

"Why didn't you tell me about him?"

Kurt looked at her, exasperated, wondering if he should try and explain employer-employee boundaries to her, but she had that look in her eyes that showed him how much she had a soft spot for him and it always made him want to keep it there. He rolled his eyes, more to himself because he knew he was about to tell her everything, and started.

"Well, nothing actually _happened_ in London. At first I thought he had a girlfriend, and then when I found out he was gay... I don't know. We sort of just... held back and danced around the fact that we were into each other."

"Okay..." Isabelle indicated for him to go on.

"But, well, it turned out he actually lives in New York, too. He still had two more months in London when I left. We... uh... well, we forgot to trade numbers or anything so I sent him a postcard from the airport as a last ditch attempt to stay in contact. And he sent one back."

"What did he say?" 

She had a dreamy look in her eyes that was making Kurt weary, "Nothing specifically... we just talked and sent them back and forth until he came home and then he sent another one asking me on a date. And I went and it was incredible and he was the perfect gentleman."

"Kurt... I'm afraid I'm not seeing the problem here..."

"He's continued to be a perfect gentleman. For five weeks," he said, very pointedly. 

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed. I don't know, it seems like he feels something too, but then he hasn't made a single move beyond holding my hand. I'm starting to think maybe he's just not interested in me and he doesn't know how to let me down gently? I don't know! I'm at a loss."

"When you met him in London, did he know about Adam?"

Kurt bristled at the mention of Adam - he honestly hadn't thought about him in weeks and he preferred it that way. "Yeah, he did. Why?"

Isabelle looked deep in thought, "Well, that explains why he didn't make a move then. He was respecting your broken heart."

Kurt wanted to scoff at the idea of a broken heart over Adam, but he knew that's wasn't fair; just resentment, and it would be disrespectful to how much pain he'd actually been in. Adam had broken his heart. (London had fixed it).

"And on any of these dates, have you made a first move?"

"Not really... I've been letting him take the lead."

Isabelle nodded and smiled at him, then shook her head a little as if Kurt was an idiot for doing so. "Oh, Kurt. Don't you see?"

"Ah... not really?"

"The entire time you've known this boy - and I want a name, by the way - he's been trying not to push too hard. He knows you've recently had your heart broken, so he's treading carefully to see if you're ready. Are you ready?"

"I was ready weeks ago."

"Then show him that."

Kurt nodded, understanding what she meant, marveling at how she managed to be so insightful about everything, all things. She could be wrong, of course, but Kurt hadn't encountered a situation where she was yet. She leaned over and cupped his cheek, which would be inappropriate from anyone else he worked with but from Isabelle was just comforting. 

"Blaine," he said simply. 

"Blaine. Hm." She pulled her hand back and headed to the door, pausing briefly in the frame, "Go get him."

Kurt watched her leave and he wasn't sure if she meant it in general or right this second. He wouldn't put it past her if she'd meant the latter. But he laughed and turned back to his computer; he had an email to send and a big, romantic gesture to plan. 

And he already had the perfect idea.


End file.
